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LOGAN, 



THE LAST OF HIS RACE. 



LOGAN, 



THE LAST OF THE RACE OF 



Shikellemus, Chief of the Cayuga Nation. 

A DRAMATIC PIECE. 

TO WHICH IS ADDED 

The Dialogue oI'iIh^ Kcickwoodsmau and the Dandy, 

First Recited at the Buftaloe Seminary, July the ist, 1821. 

By Dr. fOSEPH DODDRIDGE. 



— "Moriamur, et in media arma ruamus, 
Una salus victis, jiuJlam sperare salutem." 



XO-^^. ,--<^o>' 

Reprinted from the Virginia Edition of 1823, with an 
APPENDIX RELATING TO THE MURDER OF LOGAN'S FAMILY, 

FOR 

WILLIAM DODGE, 

BY I^OBEI^T gij^^i^ice & CO- 
CINCINNATI. 
1868. 



Elf 



LOGAN. 

THE LAST OF THE RACE OF 

SHIKELLEMUS CHIEF OF THE 
CAYUGA NATION. 

A DRAMATIC PIECE. 

TO WHICH IS ADDED, 

THE DIALOGUE OF THE BACKWOODSMAN, 

AND THE DANDY, 

FIRST RECITED AT THE BUFFALOE SEiMINARY, 

.J»hi the 1st 1S21. 

BY Dr. JOSEPH DODDRIDGE. 



— " Moriamur, et in media arnia ruamus, 
UnaSalus victis, nullani sperare salutem." 



BUFFALOE CREEK: BROOKE COUNTY, \ A. 

PRIKTFD FOR THE AUTHOR, BY SOLOMON SALA, AT 
THE BUFFALOE PRINTING OFFICE. 

1823. 



PREFACE. 



• In collecting materials for the notes on the settlement and 
wars of the western country, the history of the unfortunate 
Cayuga chief Logan presented itself I thought his bravery, 
talents, and misfortunes worthy of a dramatic commemoration. 
For attempting the task of doing justice to the character of 
Logan, I have no apology to make. My right to the use of the 
pen, and press is equal to that of any other man. Of the public 
I shall ask no indulgence. The imperial court of public opinion 
decides on the merit of every literary work, without favor or 
malice. 

It the work is well written it will live; if not it will go where 
it ought, to the shades oi oblivion. In the latter case however 
one advantage will result from my attempt, I shall have furnished 
materials for some abler hand to perform a work which certainly 
is due to the world. 

The tear of commiseration is due to Logan. Like Wallace, 
he outlived the independence of his nation. Like Cato, he 
*'greatly fell with his falling state." Like Ossian, he was the 
last of his family, all of whom, but himself, had fallen by assas- 
sinations, which, for their atrocious character, are scarcely paral- 
leled in history. 

"In every period of society, human manners are a curious 
spectacle. "••' The drama professes to represent them, and, when 
faithful to its object, cannot fail to be interesting. How far I 

*Blair. 



PREFACE. 



have succeeded in giving a correct portrait of the manners of the 
period of time alluded to, in the following composition, must be 
left to the judgment of the reader. As it respects the Back- 
woods-men, I cannot be wrong, for I was brought up among 
them, and, I trust, that I have done justice to the customs and 
phraseology of the native sons of our forests. In all its histor- 
ical allusions it is strictly correct. 

Should it be said that the piece, as to the characters which it 
represents, is too horrible for the stage, or that its form is im- 
jtroper theatrical representation, I would willingly acquiesce in the 
decision, as I have no great ambition to appear in that depart- 
ment. It is enough that it be read; but if unworthy of that, 
whv, then, let it be thrown aside, among other abortive produc- 
tions of the pen, and press. 



THE ARGUMENT. 

Logan, the principal subject of the following dramatic com- 
position, was the second son of Shikellemus, a famous Chief of 
the Cayuga nation, whose residence was at Shamokin on the Sus- 
quehana. He was a man of peace, much attached to the English 
government, and of great service in bringing about the peace 
between the Indians and the Whites in the fall of 1764. Logan 
followed his father's example, till the spring of 1774, when the 
atrocious and unprovoked murders of the Lidians, at the mouth 
of Captina, on the 27 of April; and at the mouth of big Yellow 
Creek, on the third day afterwards, and which comprehended the 
whole of Logan's family, brought on the war of the Earl of Dun- 
more, which ended in the peace of Camp Charlotte, in Novem- 
ber, in the same year. This drama, therefore, embraces a period 
of about seven months. 

It is reported that Logan, after the peace became melancholy 
and intemperate, and often wished for death; and that he was 
murdered somewhere between Detroit and the Miami, but by 
whom, or on what account, is not at present known. 



DRAMATIS PERSON.^:. 

Capt. Furioso. 

1 Lieutenant. 

2 Lieutenant. 
Capt. Pacificus. 

Logan, Chief of the Cayugas. 
Shahillas, Chief of the Ottoways. 
Tawatwees, Chief of the Shawnees. 
Kuhn, Chief of the Wyandots, a prisoner to Logan. 
Queeta, an old Squaw. 
Sheba, son of Queeta. 

Tawasta and Neputa, Daughters of Oueeta. 
Officers, Militia men, warriors, spies, messengers, 
and interpreters. 



L 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. 



■IF heeling. 



d Militia Council of IV ar. 



Capt. Furioso. The Indians are gathering close about us: 
what shall we do with them? 

I St Lieutenant. Let us fall to work, and kill every rascal of 
them without delay, for they certainly intend mischief. 

id Lieutenant. What evidence have we that thev desio-n to 
do mischief? 

ist Lieut. Have you not heard of their having stolen horses 
from the land jobbers, and that they have killed nearly all the 
traders that were among them ? 

2d Lieut. I have heard these reports; but do not know 
thro' what channel they come. Perhaps they may not be true: 
a few days will confirm the truth or falsehood of them. We had 
therefore better wait a while. 

I St Lieut. I am for no delay. You know that even a false 
report is always followed by a true one of the same kind. If the 
Indians have not already done mischief, they will soon do it. 

2d Lieut. I am no prophet. I cannot forsee what these In- 
dians intend doing. 

Capt. Fur. 1 am afraid that evil is gathering about us,, or 
why so large an encampment of Indians at the mouth of Yellow 



8 LOGA.Y. 

Creek? Another has been made at the mouth of Captina. Thus 
they are stationed both above and below us, and more of them 
are now coming down the river in canoes. What do these things 
mean ? Why do these Yellow-jackets come so near us ? 

id Lieut. They are still on their own ground. 

ist Lieut. On their own ground! What ground can an In- 
dian have? I would as soon apply to a buffaloe, for a right to 
the land over the river, as to an Indian. I could prove that he 
marked the earth with his feet, had eaten the weeds and brushed 
the bushes with his tail, and made paths to the salt licks, and 
what has an Indian done more? 

Capt. Fur. An Indian is not worthy to be compared to a 
buffaloe: He is a wolf, or bear, that lives upon the destruction 
of everything about him. He is a beast of prey. 

2d Lieut. They have at least the right of possession to the 
country. Providence placed them here, long before the white 
people knew anything of this quarter of the earth. 

Capt. Fur. That is true, and if they had been worthy of its 
possession, they would have been continued in it; but they are 
Canaanites, whom Providence has doomed to utter extermination. 

2d Lieut. I am no Moses, and am therefore not authorized 
to pass this dreadful sentence upon them. 

Capt. Fur. Neither am I a Moses; but I am a Joshua to 
execute the decree of their destruction, and altho' I cannot com- 
mand the sun and moon to stand still; yet if my companions 
think as I do, this very day shall be long enough to finish some 
of them. 

Capt. Pacificus. Perhaps we had better take a little time for 
deliberation on this weighty concern. The Indians are not likely 
to leave their present encampments shortly, and we shall soon 
find means to discover their intentions. 



LOGAJ\'. 9 

Capt. Fur. What, shall we wait for the tomahoc and scalp- 
ing-knives, of the Indians to convince us of their bad intentions I 
Are you not aware that they claim the very ground on which we 
stand? At the conclusion of the war between the English and 
the French, in 1763, they entered into a confederacy to destroy 
all the forts, and settlements in the western country, and nearly 
did so. Have you forgotten the slaughter at Shamokin, and 
those of Muddy Creek, and the Big-levels, in the Greenbrier 
country ? 

Capt. Pac. I am well acquainted with the history of those 
events, and also with the doings of the Paxton Boys, in murder- 
ing the Canestoga Indians in the jail of Lancaster. (Pa.) De- 
pend upon it, if we have ground of complaint against the In- 
dians; they are not without theirs against us. We ought not to 
be too hasty in this affair. 

I St Lieut. The Paxton Boys did right. An Indian ought to 
be killed, he is naturally a murderer, and if not at war, it is onlv 
because he is chained down by fear. 

2d Lieut. They have been at peace with us for ten years. We 
are now much stronger than we were ten years ago, and I do not 
see any thing at present to encourage them to go to war against 
us. 

Capt. Fur. I am afraid you do not perfectly understand the 
matter. The Indians have much to encourage them to so to 
war: they know as well as we do, that we are shortly to have war 
with the English, and they will join them. I believe they have 
done so already, and that the English at Detroit, are now sup- 
plying them with arms, and ammunition. 

I St Lieut. I know we shall have war: Did we not all see the 
great lights in the north last winter. They looked like ranks of 
vSoldiers, and troops of horsemen. Sometimes I thought I could 

2 



lo LOGA^. 

see the flashes of the guns. The dogs have howled every night 
for a long time past. A few nights ago 1 dreamed that I saw a 
black cloud coming slowly from the westward ; when it came 
over my house It gathered into a bunch, fell down into the yard, 
and turned into blood. The blood appeared to be ancle deep. 
These we all know are signs of war, and we shall have it. We 
had better strike the first blow. 

Capt. Pac. Northern lights, dogs, and dreams, are not good 
foundations for war. If the council were disposed to hear them, 
I could give the most satisfactory proofs that the Indians do not 
intend war at this time. 

2d Lieut. Let us hear them. 

Capt. Pac. In all their encampments on the Ohio we do not 
hear of any war Chiefs being among them. This is never the 
case when they intend war. In the time of hostilities they are 
more obedient to their Chiefs than we are, and do nothing with- 
out their advice. 

The absence of their Chiefs is an evidence that their inten- 
tions are not hostile. 

At their encampments on the Ohio, there are more women 
and children, than men; if they intended to make war, this would 
not be the case. Whenever the Indians make war, they remove 
their women and children to a place of safety, as we do ours. If 
we are to have war, let us not sneak into it, like a thief In the 
night. If the presence of these Indians along the river is disa- 
greeable to us, let us tell them so. In that case no doubt they 
will remove farther off; if not, there will be some pretext for 
hostilities against them. 

Capt. Fur. I am for no delay. Let us strike while the iron 
is hot. They are within our reach, and we ought not to let them 
escape. 



Capt. Pac. Surely you will not kill women and children. 
This would be not only inhuman, but dishonorable. 

Capt. Fur. I would kill all, nits will be lice; they have killed 
the traders, and now blood for blood. No mercy ought to be 
shown to them. 

Capt. Pac. We do not know that they have killed any tra- 
ders; and if they have they were not within our jurisdiction, so 
that we are under no obligation to avenge their deaths. If tra- 
ders, from a motive of gain, choose to venture among them, let 
them abide by the consequence. We have nothing to do with 
them. 

I St Lieut. I am for avenging the blood of any white man 
shed by the Indians. 

Capt. Pac. Does it then belong to you or me, to make war 
or peace? Peace and war, are national concerns, and not those of 
individuals. If the Indians have committed murders, let us as- 
certain the facts, and report them to the government. A nego- 
tiation will follow, and if satisfaction be not given, a declaration 
of war will be the consequence: We can then go to war openly, 
and with a good conscience. 

Capt. Fur. I am for no delay. I will not wait for a declara- 
tion of war. 

Capt. Pac. What then.'' Will you be a murderer. Will you 
attack and slaughter people who are at peace? If you intend any 
such thing let them know it, that they may have an equal chance 
with you. Do not take them by surprise. Be an honorable 
soldier. A murderer is a coward. Besides, by killing these peo- 
ple you would become answerable to the criminal justice of our 
country. 

I St Lieut. The criminal justice of our country, for killing 
Indians! We are not afraid of that. All the sheriffs, magis- 



12 LOGAjY. 

trates and constables In the countrv could not take one of us. If 
they should attempt it we would soon shew them the effects of 
club law. 

Capt. Fur. The thing must be done this very day. There 
are many of us who have lost relations in the former war, by the 
hand of Indians, and their bones are not yet buried. Now we 
have a chance to bury them, and we must do it. Our people will 
be much disappointed if we do not strike the blow. Let us be 
off. 

Capt. Pac. I have something more to say to you before the 
council breaks up. 

Capt. Fur. We are ready to hear you, provided you do not 
detain us too long. The day is wearing away, and we have a 
great deal to do. This is to be the day of vengeance. 

Capt. Pac. A day of vengeance truly! More so I apprehend 
than you are aware of. It may be a piece of sport to you, to 
shoot these Indian men, and bury the tomahoc in the heads of 
their women and children. 

I St Lieut. Aye. This is the very game we want to be at, 
and that forthwith. 

Capt. Pac. But will business end here? Will vou murder 
our own people too? 

Capt. Fur. What do you mean by this question ? 

Capt. Pac. I will explain myself. The moment vou strike 
the blow war is declared, and you may rest assureci the Indians 
will not be slow in making retaliation; but are we now in a con- 
dition to go to war? We have had ten years of peace, during 
which time the country has been settled pretty smartly, but still 
the population is but thin, and we are all poor, we have no armv, 
but few arms, and little ammunition to help ourselves with. You 
know our men had better be at work, and raise corn, and get 



LOGA.Y. 13 

meat to keep their families from starving, than to spend their 
time in building forts and going on scouts, and campaigns, this 
is not the worst, more than one half of our people will leave the 
country. Strike this blow, immediately every road leading to the 
mountains and over them, will be crowded with families flying 
from the war. Your residence Capt. is not among us. You can 
easily return home, and there you will be out of danger. Will 
you light up the flames of war and then leave the few who, either 
cannot, or will not leave the country to contend with it? 

Capt. Fur. Do you suppose I am afraid of danger? I shall 
be amongst you. 

Capt Pac. That may be; or may not be. To tell you the 
honest truth, I think but little of the bravery of any man who 
can ever harbor a thought of committing murder in cold blood. 
At all events, the man who can kill a woman or child, must be a 
coward. 

Capt. Fur. Do you mean that I am a coward, and that I in- 
tend to commit murder? 

Capt. Pac. I do not intend to retract anything that I have 
said, take it as you like. I had much rather risk a shot with you, 
than suffer you to do what you intend, if I could prevent it. I 
have but one life to lose, and vou mav as well take it, it you can, 
as that I should lose it in a war which you are about to bring on, 
and this will likely be my fate, as I intend at all events, to abide 
by the stuffs 

ist Lieut. No more of that we have other matters on hand. 

Capt. Pac. I know very well that I am in no danger from 
you, say what I may. But I feel for others. What torrents of 
blood must be shed in consequence of what you are about to do 
this day! On you, and on your party, be the blame of the wid- 
ows, and orphans, whose husbands, and fathers, must soon per- 



14 LOGAJ^. 

ish by the savages, in revenge for their relations, and friends, 
whom you are about to slaughter. Their sighs, their tears, and 
their poverty, will be laid to your account. To the latest pos- 
terity your names will be stained with blood. You will be re- 
garded as cowards, and murderers, who have involved your coun- 
try in a destructive war, without provocation — Would to God 
the Indians were acquainted with your design, that they might 
give you the reception you so richly deserve, and prevent the 
bloodshed of innocent people. 

Capt. Fur. You had better give them notice then. 

Caft. Pac. Were it in my power I certainly should do so; 
but you know it is not. 

Capt. Fur. Let us put the matter to vote at once, we have 
talked too long already. If anything is to be done, let us do it. 
Call in our men. 



SCENE II. 

Enter a number of Militia, dressed in their habit, with rifles in their 
hands. 

Capt. Fur. Men what have you to say about those Indians 
along the river? shall we kill them; or let them alone? 

Omnes. Kill them. Kill them. Men, women, and children. 
Let us not leave one of them alive. 

I St Lieut. The majority governs. Our resolution is taken. 
To work then my brave boys as speedily as possible. 

[Exeunt omnes. 

Capt. Pac. Oh! Lord what is man? Is he thine image here 
below? Is he the son of reason? Why then is he the victim of 



LOGAjY. 15 

the vilest passions ! He boasts of a revelation of thy divine gov- 
ernment, teaching him to be the good Samaritan; yet he is a fury. 
With all the rewards of a good conscience and the divine favor 
before him, he riots in the blood of his fellow man with savage 
brutality. What is there of justice on our side in the contest 
which must follow the deeds of this day? We have ravished their 
country from these sons of the forest, and now slaughter them 
without provocation. What is the life of man ? It is like that 
of the frail mushroom, short in itself, yet liable to premature 
destruction by the tread of every foot. O ! my country what a 
waste of life is soon to take place among our people, who al- 
though poor, were 'till now, peaceful, and contented. God of 
justice! I call thee to witness that in the murderous deeds of 
this day, I have had no participation, and I invoke thy protec- 
tion for me, and mine, during the storm of war now impending 



over us 



ACT II. 

SCENE I. — The council house at Sandusky^ enter the chiefs Logan, 
ShahillaSy 'Tawatwees and Kuhn — a number of death halloas, in succes- 
sion, at a distance. 

Logan. Bad news. What can this mean.'' 
Shahillas. We shall soon hear. What eight deaths? 
Enter Messenger. 

What news brother? 

Mes. Bad news — the long knives have made war and killed 

some of our people. 



1 6 LOGAjY. 

Log. Where ? 

Mes. Two in a canoe above Wheeling and six more at Cap- 
tina. 

Tawatwees. Can you tell the reason of tlieir having done so. 

Mes. No — we had not offended them: when they were com- 
ing to our camp we thought them friends, 'till they fired upon 
us, and killed six of our people. 

Tawa. For some time past I thought we should have war.'-' 
We have seen great lights in the north. The owls have been 
very plenty, and the pidgeons scarce. I have seen a great many 
strange sights, and heard strange noises in the air; yet I have al- 
ways rejoiced in the sun beam of peace. 

Kuhn. The life of man is a life of war. The wolves cannot 
eat grass. Something must die before they can eat. The fox kills 
and eats the harmless birds. The rattle snake has its poison, 
and its teeth. The eagle has its claws, and its strong bill. Every 
thing about us is at war, and can we expect peace? No! we must 
soon be at war. Such is the will of the great spirit. These white 
people are as fond of blood as we are. They have dipped their 
hands in the blood of our people, and we must do so with theirs. 
The great father of the white people over the great water is angry 
with his children and will soon make war upon them, to punish 
them for being too proud, and we must join the great father. He 
has guns, powder, and lead for us, in exchange for our skins, and 
fur; but his children are poor, and have nothing for themselves. 

Sha. Let us not be too fast. This news has come to us like 
a bolt of thunder. The news has made our ears deaf, and the 
flash has blinded our eyes. We are like a man just awakening 
out of sleep, at the dawn of the morning, while the light is not 

*The Aurora borealis was a common occurrence for several winters preceding 
the commencement of the revolutionary war. 



LOG AX, ij 

yet clear, and his eyes not yet quite awake. He thinks he sees a 
bunch of large trees; but they are nothing but a bunch of bushes. 
He sees, as he thinks, a large mountain; but it is only a little 
hill. The grass of the prearie he mistakes for a large water. 
Brothers let us listen a little longer before we lift the hatchet. 

[^ nmnber of death halloos in succession at a distance.'] 

Logan^ counting the halloos. What, twelve more dead! 
Enter Messenger. 

Log. You bring us bad news brother. 

Mes. Very bad! The long knives have killed twelve of our 
people at Yellow creek. 

Kuhn. They are for war. They are in earnest. 

Log. Can you tell me what has become of my people? 

Mes. They are all dead. Some of them at Captina, and the 
rest at Yellow creek. In the morning the captain of the white 
men came over to our camp, and looked very sharply about. I 
believe he counted us. Your sister told him to go away. That 
the Indians were angry, because their friends down the river had 
been killed. He went away. Afterwards your brother, and sis- 
ter, and some more went over the river to the house where they 
sold rum to the Indians — but they took no guns with them. Af- 
ter they had been there a while, the white men killed them all. 
Several more were killed in a canoe as they were going over the 
river to see what had happened. 

Log. Logan is left alone; but he will not weep. He will 
think only of revenge. What think you brothers, must we not 
cover the blood of our people? 

Kuhn. The red hatchet must be lifted. Our arms must be 
strong for war. Call in the peace chiefs. 



1 8 LOGAjY. 

SCENE II. 

^ Enter fVingemind^ and some other peace chiefs. 

Taw. "j* For ten snows and ten ears of corn you have gov- 
erned our nations. The light was clear all about us. Our war 
posts are fallen down and rotten. The scalp-halloo has not been 
heard. Our young men can hardly make it. A dark cloud is 
now coming from the place where the sun wakes up in the morn- 
ing. You must leave the storm to us; only the good weather 
belongs to you. 

Peace Chiefs. Let us first hear all you have to say, before we 
consent to exchange the clear light, for darkness, and the sun 
shine, and sweet little winds, for thunder, and storms. 

Sha. Let us think a little before we strike. The panther 
before he springs on his prey, takes time to squat down, fix his 
claws, and mark his exact course with his eyes. The snake be- 
fore he bites, rattles, and coils himself up. 

Taw. We must have war. The bones of our friends must 
be covered. 

Sha. Must they be covered with the war hatchet? Brothers 
it may be that in attempting to do this, we may leave our bones 
uncovered with theirs. 

Kuhn. We are warriors. We must be strong. 

Sha. We are not strong; although we are good warriors our- 
selves, and so are our men; but we are few in number, and we 
are poor. These white people are like an ant-hill, you may tear 

* The Indians have two sets of chiefs, one for war and the other for peace. 
When war is declared, the peace chiefs are out of place, and the war chiefs have 
the command. When peace is made, the peace chiefs resume the government. 

f The Indian terms for Summer and Winter. 



LOGA.Y. 19 

down a part of it, and kill a great many; but there are always 
enough left to build it up again, and the dead are not missed. 

Log. The spirit of our friends will never rest until we have 
revenge on the whites. They have killed my people and I must 
kill too. 

Sha. My heart is sorry for you, brother Logan. You have 
no brother to hunt with you, you have no wife, and sister to take 
care of your cabbin, and plant your corn. Were I angry at Lo- 
gan I would say that he, as well as his grand father, Shikelkmus 
has been too fond of the white skins; but we all do wrong some- 
times. Logan is our brother, and his people were ours too. We 
must take part in his revenge; but brothers, I think we had best 
wait for a better opportunity. 

Kuhn. What better opportunity shall we ever have? Shall 
we ever be stronger than we are now? Will the great spirit put 
the thunder, and lightning into our hands, and tell us to dash 
them upon the white skins? will he turn rocks, and bushes into 
Indians, to help us in the war? He has not told us so. We 
must have revenge, or give up, and say that we are squaws. Now 
Is the time to strike, unless brother Shahillas knows somethino; 
we do not. 

Sha, It takes time to prepare for war. We might now strike 
a blow, and kill a great many before these white men would be 
ready for war. Yes brother Logan might have revenge for the 
blood of his people in a short time. His bullets, and tomahoc 
might soon cover their bones deep in the ground; but brothers 
listen ! Our squaws must first be taken to a safe place, or the 
scouts of the white people would soon reach and kill them all, 
and where shall we put them? would Sandusky, Coshocton, or 
Chillicothe be far enough from them? would they not sooner 
find them at all these towns? 



20 LOGAjY. 

^aw. I am for revenge at once. The bones of our people 
must be covered. I am not afraid to die. I can die but once, 
and no matter how soon if I have made satisfaction to the spirits 
of my murdered friends. The large snake rattles, and bites, al- 
tho' he knows he is to be killed the next moment; but he dies 
contentedly, because he has struck his enemy the first blow, so 
will Tawatwees, if the great spirit says it shall be so. 

Kuhn. The white people have already drove the red men from 
the long shore of the great water, where the sun rises, across the 
Allegheny mountains, and now over the Ohio. Many nations on 
the other side of the great mountain who used to count thou- 
sands, have vanished from the earth like the fog along the rivers 
in a summer morning. Others not quite gone are now small, 
and their legs are cut off so that they cannot fight. They are not 
satisfied yet. They must have our country too. Do we not see 
the marks of their hatchets on the trees? their honey flies have 
come among us, and we shall see them with their iron strings,* 
measuring ofF our land for themselves. Brothers, if the white 
people must have our country, let us make it cost them as much 
of their blood as we can spill. 

Sha. Brother Kuhn has said that the white men will not be 
long at peace. That their great father is angry with them. This 
I believe from things I have heard among them at Detroit. There 
will be but one ear of corn, and one snow more before they litt 
the red hatchet. We will then join our great father. We shall 
then be like a little bush under the shelter of a large tree, whose 
great arms cover it from the storms. By ourselves we are like a 
boy whose arms are not yet strong enough for the war; but by 
the side of our great father, we shall be strong enough for the 
white men. 

* Surveyor's chain. 



LOG AX. 21 

If we should strike now they will come from the other side 
of the great mountain where the sun rises, like swarms of locusts. 
They will cut roads through our country for the carriage of their 
big rifles, which make thunder, and lightning; and they will fall 
on us with their long rows of men with coats all of one colour, 
with one horned guns in their hands. Shahillas is not afraid: but 
he wishes to wait 'till he becomes stroncjer before he strikes the 
blow. 

Log. Logan has been called the friend of the white men: his 
great father Shikellemus taught him to be so; but Logan is still 
an Indian, and he must have blood for blood. The spirits of 
his friends cannot rest until he has taken revenge. If none will 
join Logan he will go alone, and kill till his arm is sick. He will 
fear no danger. Why should he fear? when he falls there is none 
left to mourn for his death. 

Taw. We must join our brother Logan. He shall not fall 
alone. We must fight and die with him. Let the war-post be 
set deep in the ground. 

Kuhn. Our brothers have already raised the war-post. 

Log. How many have struck it with their hatchets? 

Kuhn. Every man. They are all warriors. Let us call them, 
and tell them to prepare for the war dance. 

Enter the young warriors. 

Taw. Young men you have been raised in the sun shine of 
peace; but now comes the storm of war. You have killed the 
deer, buffaloe, and elk, now you must kill white men. The bones 
of our friends are not covered, you must cover them deep in the 
ground with the red hatchet. 

Sha. Shahillas thought it too soon to strike the white men; 
but the other chiefs say now is the time. Shahillas is not afraid. 



11 LOG AX. 

Logan must have revenge for the loss of his friends, and we must 
strike with him. The young men have said all to me, shew us 
the white men, and we will kill them. I will shew you the white 
men, and if any turn his back upon them in battle, he shall die 
by my hands. You wish for war, now you shall fight. 

JVar song of the Chiefs. 

Ye peace chiefs retire, for your sunshine is o'er. 
Your reign has been mild, as the breezes of spring. 
The clouds gather round us, and peace is no more, 
'Till the strife of our warriors, a conquest shall bring. 

Young men, who have grown in the mild beam of peace. 
In hunting, and singing, the feast, and the dance. 
Must now become warriors; and give up the chase, 
In revenge for the dead, like a whirlwind advance. 

Their spirits now call you to cover their bones 
From the clouds they invite you to vengeance in blood. 
O ! quick put an end to their grief and their groans. 
Your fathers command it, and call the deed good. 

Response of the Toung Warriors. 

We'll haste to the land, where our people have bled, 
The red hatchet of war, for their death shall atone. 
The white man shall sink to his cold clayey bed; 
And our fathers approve the brave deed of their sons. 

\Exeunt Chiefs and Warriors. Logan sohis^ 

Log. Logan is left alone, the last of a long race of Chiefs re- 
nowned in peace, and in war, which when he dies, like the shoot- 
ing star, will leave no track behind. The spring has come; but 



LOGA^r. 23 

Logan has none to plant corn for him. The flowers appear on 
the vallies, and hills; but they have no fragrance for Logan. Lo- 
gan smells nought but blood. The birds sing in the groves; but 
they sing not for Logan. Logan will hear nought but the war 
whoop, and the death halloo. The swallows, and robin red 
breasts, and bats have awoke from their long death of sleep. The 
wild geese, and swans have returned from the south, to hatch their 
young on the shores of the lakes, pairs of little birds in the ful- 
ness of love, are building their nests, the green leaves are break- 
ing from their buds, the grass, and weeds begin to wave in the 
wind, all things are full of lite, but Logan dies, and with him all 
his race. Logan lives only for revenge. 



ACT III. 

SCENE L — Council House at ChUlicothe. 

KuhUy Tawatwces and others in Council. 

\_Enter Shahillas. 

Kulin. What news brother ? 

Sha. Bad indeed ! We have been defeated by the long knives, 
where we felt sure of a victory. 

I^aw. You make our hearts sore; but we must hear all the 
bad news; tell us how the red men were beaten, they are strong. 

Sha. We thought to have reached the mouth of Kenhawa, 
before the long knives, and to make a hard blow on the settle- 
ments on its upper branches; but they were there the day before 
us. The evening before the battle, we held a council. I pro- 
posed to go over the river and make peace with the white men; 
but my men would fight, and Shahillas must command. We 



24 . . LOGA.Y. 

crossed the river and the battle began next morning, at waking 
up of the sun. Our warriors made their line from the Ohio to 
the Kenhawa. The long knives were in the forks of the river. 
For a while we beat them; but a great number of them came out 
from their camp, and we were defeated. Our warriors are coming 
home in small parties, to keep themselves from starving. Broth- 
ers we have fought bravely. We have done our duty; but we are 
too weak for the white men. 

'Taw. You bring us bad news indeed. Shahillas told us be- 
fore the war began that we are too weak for the white men ; and 
Shahillas is not weak. He is a warrior, and I am afraid he is a 
prophet too; but Tawatwees still hopes that the great spirit will 
not forsake his red children. The darkest and the coldest time 
is just before the sun wakes up in the morning. The light may 
shine around us yet. 

Sha. It is in vain to hope that we shall be strong enough to 
fight with the long knives. The fawn cannot fight with the wolf, 
the voung bird with the rattle snake, or the pidgeon with the 
eagle. The white men are many in number; we are but few. 
They are rich; we are poor. They know everything; we know 
nothing — they can do every thing; we can do but little. When 
things begin to run their course, they will go on 'till they reach 
their end. Brothers can we stop the winds from blowing? can we 
say to the lightning go no farther? can we make the clouds hold 
up the rain ? We are going down the hill, and we must go to the 
bottom. These white men have driven our people from the sea 
s^hore to the Ohio. They will soon have this country, and drive 
us on to the place where the sun sleeps, 'till there shall be no 
place for hunting, or raising corn. If the great spirit say it shall 
be so, we cannot help it. 

Kuhn. Shall we then say that our legs have been cut off so 



loga:n\ 25 

that we cannot fight ? Shall we submit our breast to the bullets, 
and our heads to the tomahocs of the long knives? Must we 
become squaws and beg them not to kill us ? 

Sha. No Brothers we must make a good peace with them, or 
fight to the last. If they must have our blood, we must sell it 
to them for as much of theirs as we can get. Brothers we must 
answer to our fathers for the deeds of our lives. Our misfor- 
tunes are not our faults. Ought a tree to be blamed when split 
to pieces by the thunder? Is it the fault of the little fawn that 
he is eaten up by the wolf; or the harmless bird that he is swal- 
lowed by the snake? Time makes, and destroys every thing. We 
see the big bones about our licks; where shall we now find the 
race of beasts to which they belonged? They are all gone. Do 
we not walk every day over the bones of a race of men who hav^e 
vanished from the earth, like white clouds in the evening? Who 
built the great graves and forts which are seen all over our coun- 
try? Perhaps they were killed by our forefathers. The whites 
will destroy us. We have had our day, our night is at hand. 
These white men will have theirs, and then some strong nation 
will bring the dark night upon them. So says the great spirit. 
His arm is strong we cannot hold it. We have only to do the 
best we can, where he has put our feet. 

{Several scalp-halloo s at a distance^ 

Taw. Good news! It is like the clear sun shine after dark 
clouds and heavy rains. 

Sha. The news although good must be but little. It will be 
to us like the first morning light to a man sick of a fever, whose 
pulse beats too hard in his temples, he rejoices to see the light, 
but is still sick. It is like a good plaister on a spider.'-' The 

* Spider is the Indian name for a cancer. 

4 



26 LOGAM. 

pain is stopped a little time; but his legs are too long to be pulled 
out, he holds fast, and bites 'till the man dies. 
{T'he scalp halloos continue}^ 

Taw. It is the voice of Logan. 

Kuhn. He cames with his hatchet red with blood. His scalps 
on a large stick, and I hope with a prisoner tor the fire. 

Taw. [Pointing thro a crack in the council house) I see him yon- 
der: he has a prisoner. 

Kuhn. Thank the great spirit. 

SCENE n. 

Enter Logan with three warriors^ bringing a prisoner ^ and three 
scalps on a pole. 

Log. Good brother [Shakes hands with all the Chiefs) I have 
covered some of the blood of my people [presents the prisoner and 
scalps) . 

Kuhn. Our hearts are glad brother, that the great spirit has 
given success to the red hatchet of war in your hand. You have 
been strong, though before now always the friend of peace. 

Log, Logan was the son of peace ; but now he has tasted 
blood, peace will never live in Logan's cabbin again. 

Taw. Young warriors take away the prisoner, make him run 
the gauntlet, tie him to a stake, make his white skin as black as 
a burnt tree, with powder and water, kindle the fire. We will 
then tell you what is to be done. 

Exeunt warriors with the prisoner. 

Kuhn. Shall we burn the prisoner? 

Taw. 1 think so. It is now a long time since our old war- 
riors have smelt the burning flesh of a white man. Our young 



L0GAJS\ 11 

warriors have never seen a prisoner burned at the stake. They 
must see what their fathers have so often seen. Their hearts are 
too soft, they must be made harder. Let them burn the prisoner, 
and let some of the old men shew them how to do it, that he may 
not die too soon. 

S!ia. What shall we gain by burning the prisoner? I cannot 
see that burning him will be of any service to us. He is a pris- 
oner and cannot help himself, Shahillas is a warrior, and will never 
lay his hand upon the helpless, and weak; unless in mercy. He 
will give him food if he is hungry, and clothe him if he is ragged, 
but he will not kill him ; if he did, he would shoot him ; but not 
burn him. 

Kuhn. Shahillas is a warrior. In battle he is a storm, his 
heart is strong, death follows the blow of his hatchet, and the 
flash of his gun; but when the fight is over he is as mild as the 
little winds in the spring. He can take a prisoner; but cannot 
kill him after he is in his hands ? Shahillas is too good. 

Taw. This war was made for revenge, and we must have it. 
If our lives should pay for it. War is not the work of kindness. 
We must shoot, stab, tomahoc, and burn all the whites we can 
catch. War is the work of death. So the long knives treat the 
red skins. The men, women, and children are all alike to them. 
If the little child cries, they dont mind it, they break its head 
with the tomahoc. They know more than we do, and ought be 
better than they are. Let us burn him. 

Sha. This war cannot last many moons longer. Burning this 
prisoner will only make it worse. This prisoner has friends, per- 
haps his blood runs in the veins of more than one hundred peo- 
ple, if we burn him they must kill too, and where will our mur- 
ders come to an end? This prisoner looks like a man who has 
a good head and heart and is a big man among his people. Kind- 



28 LOGAjY. 

ness to him may be kindness to ourselves in the end. Let us not 
burn him. 

Kuhn. Burning prisoners has been the custom of our fore- 
fathers from old times, and their spirit will be angry with us if 
we depart from their custom. Do we not see bones mixed with 
coals, and ashes on the graves. It was on the top of those little 
hills, which they made with their own hands, that they burned 
their prisoners, as offerings to the great spirit, and the ghosts of 
their friends slain in war. We must do so too. The spirit of 
our friends will grieve if he is not burned. The white men are 
as cruel as we are. They killed our friends and then burned them 
in the house where they were killed. 

Enter a young warrior. 

War. The prisoner is tied to the stake. He is made black 
— and the fires are burning. The warriors are waiting for the or- 
der of the chiefs to begin the torture. 

Taw. Is the prisoner afraid? Does he tremble? Or is he 
a man? 

War. He is a strong man. He is not afraid. He talks to 
the great spirit. 

Log. Go back young man, and tell the warriors we shall soon 
let them know what is to be done. 

\Exit warrior. 

Sha. We must not burn the prisoner. We are mistaken 
about these white men. They have indeed killed our friends in 
cold blood, but who committed this murder? The whole nation? 
No! Only a few bad men. All their great councils will condemn 
the deed. The names of their chiefs who committed those mur- 
ders will be black while the world lasts. For the white men for- 
get nothing. They write everything in their books. 

"Taw, Must we then be better than the white men? 



LOGA.Y. 29 

Sha. Brother Tawatwees. Will it hurt our pride to be told 
that we are better than white men? Thank the great spirit, we 
are better than many of them. What says brother Logan; shall 
we burn the prisoner? 

Log. A prisoner belongs to the nation. And it belongs to 
the chiefs to say what shall be done with him. It may be that I 
have done wrong and if I have I beg pardon. I have promised 
him his life, and Logan never told a lie. 

Taw. Logan is a strong warrior; yet he grew up in the sun- 
shine of peace; but Logan is too good. His heart is too soft. 
Will the spirits of his friends be satisfied if this prisoner is not 
burned ? 

Log. The hearts of Logan's friends were like his own, they 
were good, they were not hard. While living he was their chief 
He is so still, and the last of his race. Their spirits are satisfied 
with what Logan has done. Brothers, I thank you for assisting 
me with the red hatchet, in taking revenge for the murder of my 
people. I beg the life of the prisoner. I have promised him 
that he should not die, and must he say with his last breath that 
Logan has told a lie. 

Taw. Logan is a good man. He has promised too much 
to his prisoner; but he must keep his promise. Let us give him 
his prisoner. 

Kuhn. Our young men will be much disappointed. They 
are all anxious to put the fire to the white man. 

Log. They are young men. They will soon forget the dis- 
appointment. Logan has had revenge. He has done his duty 
to his people. 



30 LOGAK. 

SCENE III. 

Enter ^leeta with her son Sheba a young warrior^ and two daughters. 

^eeta. Fathers ! Queeta's son was killed at the camp of 
Logan, at Yellow Creek. Queeta wants another son in his place. 
I will take take the prisoner in the place of my son. 

Sheba. Sheba wants a brother. The prisoner is a strong 
young man. Sheba's eyes would be full of tears if he should be 
burned. We will hunt hard this fall. We will give fifty bucks 
for the prisoner. 

Toung Squaws. We want a brother. The prisoner will be a 
good hunter, and kill deer for us, and we will be kind to him. 
Good fathers ! do give us the poor prisoner for a brother. 

Exeunt ^eeta and her daughters. 

All the chiefs. Logan the prisoner is yours. Do with him as 

your good heart directs. 

\Exit Logan. 

Sha. We shall make our young warriors angry for a while; 
but we shall stop the blood which runs so fast from the veins of 
both of the white, and red men, and this is best. 

Kuhn. Tawatwees, and Kuhn are both for blood, but Logan 
and Shahillas are great men. They are strong in war, and the 
light of their minds, is the light of the sun when he is highest in 
the sky. We agree, and hope it is for the best. 



LOGAK. 31 

SCENE IV. 

Enter Logan with the prisoner ^ with a belt of white wampum tied 

around his body. 

[The chiefs shake hands with him^ each calling liim brother?) 

Enter ^eeta^ with her son and daughters. 

Log. Mother, I give you the prisoner for a son, and you 
shall not pay for him. Poor mother, you, like Logan, have lost 
too much already! You have lost your son. The prisoner is 
now in his place. And now prisoner, Logan has something to 
tell you. When we were bringing you here, I promised you that 
vou should not die, and I have made my promise good. Now 
be a man. Here is your mother, she is a good woman. Here 
is your brother, he is a fine young man, and here are your two 
sisters, they are good girls. They will be kind to you; they will 
not ask you to work; but you must kill meat for them. Be a 
good man, prisoner. Do not run away. This war cannot last 
always, the time may come, and that soon, when you may return 
to your own people, with honor, and perhaps help to stop the 
blood which is now running. Logan returns to the war, and you 
may never see him again; but whatever may be his fate, you will 
say that Logan has been your friend. 

[Prisoner, attempting to kneel down.) 

Log. Dont kneel. Stand up like a man. Logan is not the 
great spirit. 

Pris. I thank you, good chiefs, for my life. I shall not run 
away, I shall always say that Logan has been my best friend. 

^eeta. i^Paking the prisoner by the hand^j My son! [Wiping 
her eyes.) Did you ever loose a brother by death.'' 



32 LOGAJ^. 

Pris. Yes mother, one of my brothers died some time ago. 

^eeta. Did he come to life again? 

Pris. No ! 

^eeta. If he had come to life again, and you had taken him 
by the hand, you would know how I feel in taking you in the 
place of my dead son. 

Sheba. (^Taking the prisoner by the hand.) My brother! My 
poor brother, your feet must be very sore. [Hands him a pair of 
mocassons.) Put these mocassons on them, and then you shall go 
with us to our Wigwam. {^Phe prisoner puts the mocassons on his 

Tawasta. The eldest sister. [Taking the prisoner by the hand.) 
I am your sister. You must love us, and we will be good to you. 

Neputa. Youngest sister. [Taking the prisoner by the hand.) 
Poor brother, he is almost naked. Here brother put this match- 
coat on him. [Hands him a matchcoat^ who puts it on the prisoner.) 

'[Exeunt omnes. 

ACT IV. 

SCENE l.—Chilicothe. 

War chiefs in council. 

\_Enter Warrior. 

Sha. Warrior, where have you been? 

War. I am one of the spies sent by the Tawatwees to watch 
the tracks of the white men, I have been out one moon. 

Sha. And what have you seen brother? 

War. Too much. They are coming upon us as thick as 
grasshoppers. Capt. Dunmore is coming up the Hockhocking, 
and Capt. Lewis lower down. They intend meeting in this town. 



LOGA.Y. 33 

Sha. How do you know that? 

IVar. One dark, night I got close to two of their men, who 
watch on the outside of the camp, and 1 heard them say that they 
would have fine fun, and plenty to eat in Chilicothe in a few days, 
and the great captain and their warriors would shake hands there. 

Sha. Are you sure of this, warrior? Do you understand their 
talk? 

JVar. Yes I do. Too much. 

[Exit warrior. 

Kuhn. The dark clouds are coming close to us. What shall 
we do brothers? Shall we fight; or make peace with the long 
knives? We must do something very soon. 

Taw. It may be that the great spirit is angry with us, be- 
cause we drink too much of the strong water made by the white 
men, and because we did not burn Logan's prisoner. Let us 
make him an offering. {He clears away every thing from around the 
council firCy after which he and the other chiefs draw each an handfull 
of tobacco from their pouches, and throw it into the fire.) 

Taw. O! Great Spirit! We have made you an offering of 
tobacco. Now hear us, your red children. The white men are 
coming to kill us, and our squaws and children. Oh ! Great 
Spirit, make these white men sick with the fever, that there may 
be a great many new graves about all their camps, so their hearts 
may be made weak. Make all the deer and turkies go away from 
about them, that they may become hungry and go home. O! 
Great Spirit, make the two great captains get mad, quarrel, and 
fight with one another and go way from us. O! Great Spirit, 
make the hearts, and hands of your red children strong to fight 
these long knives, and kill and drive them away from our coun- 
try. 

Brothers, we must remove our squaws and children to Lower 
5 



34 LOGAJV. 

Sanduskey, out of the way of the long kniv^es, or they will kill 
them all. Then me must fight them and drive them away if we 
can. 

Sha. Brothers, it is too late. The snow will soon come. If 
we take away our squaws and children they will starve; for the 
white men wil! destroy all our corn. We cannot fight. We have 
too little powder and lead. We must make peace. 

Kuhn, Will they make peace with us? I think they are too 
angry. They want to kill us all, and take all our land. We 
must fight to the last. 

Sha. The long knives from Kenhawa are very angry, and 
would kill all our squaws and children as well as ourselves, if 
they could; but the great captain Dunmore, and his men are not 
as bad. They will make peace with us. 

Kuhn. How dp you know that? 

Sha. It may be that I have done wrong. I have sent a mes- 
senger to Capt. Dunmore to ask him if he would make peace. 
He says he will. His messenger with a white flag will be here 
presently. We must make peace with Capt. Dunmore, before 
the long knives from Kenhawa join them, Capt. Dunmore is 
not angry; but the long knives are very angry. 

Log. This war was made for Logan, and he had revenge for 
the death of all his people; but he is sorry that so many of our 
warriors have been killed by the long knives. Brothers you suf- 
fered too much for Logan; he is but one man. 

Kuhn. Brother, we have not done too much for you. We 
are all one, and we must help all our brothers. 



LOG AX. 3s 



SCENE II. 

Enter a messenger from the camp of Dunmore^ with a roll of paper 

in his hand. 

Mes. Your brother, Capt. Dunmore, sends me to the chiefs 
with this white flao;. 

(Tb Logan.) Captain Logan, I am glad to see you. 

Log. [angrily.) May be so. 

[To the Interpreter,) stand by me, {reads.) 

The Earl of Dunmore, Governor of the province of Virginia, 
makes known to the chiefs of the nations, now unhappily con- 
federated in hostility, against the good subjects of his majesty the 
king of England, that, deprecating on his part, the bloodshed 
and miseries of war, he is desirous of entering into an honorable 
and permanent peace, with the Indian nations, now at war, and 
will gladly receive all the chiefs at camp Charlotte tomorrow at 
noon, should it be their wish to enter into a treaty of peace. 

\_Exit messenger. 

SCENE III. 

Enter a young warrior. 

Kuhn. What news have you? 

U^ar. Captain Lewis and his long knives are coming up the 
Scioto, like a whirlwind. They will be here the day after to- 
morrow, to kill us all, if they can. I heard their watchmen on 
the outside of the camp say so. They are very angry, because 
so many of their men were killed at the Kenhawa. 



36 LOGAjY. 

Taw. Did you hear them sav any thing about Capt. Dun- 
more? 

War. Yes. I heard them say that Capt. Dunmore is the 
biggest captain. They are afraid that he will make peace with 
the Indians, before they can get to Chilicothe, They want to 
get here first and kill all the Indians, before Capt. Dunmore 
makes peace. 

\_Exit warrior. 

Kuhn. What shall we do ? Shall we take our squaws and 
children away from the long knives? They will kill them all if 
they can. 

Sha. We will not send our squaws and children away yet. 
We must send a messenger to the big Capt. Dunmore with the 
talk of the warriors, and he will send one of his captains to tell 
Capt. Lewis to stop; if he dont do so we will move off our 
squaws and children as fast as we can, and then sell our wigwams 
and corn to the long knives, for as many of them as we can kill. 

Taw. Call the warrior, and give him the white flag, to go to 
the big Capt. Dunmore. 

Enter zvarrior. 

Sha. {Hands him a white handkerchief on a stick.) Take this 
to the big Capt. Dunmore, and give him the same talk which you 
have given us. 

\_Exit warrior. 

Sha. Who shall go to the camp of Capt. Dunmore tomor- 
row? We must make peace, as soon as we can; or we shall have 
bad times. 

Taw. I am afraid of these white men. They are all liars. 
They want to get us into their camp, and then kill us all, like 
they did our friends at Yellow creek. May be, we had better 
move off first, and then make peace if we can. 



LOGAX. 37 

Kuhn. There is no time to be lost. The long knives are 
close to us, and we have a great many squaws, and children, and 
wounded men to take care of. Our people must begin to pack 
up to go awav. 

Sha. They may do so, if they choose; but if they do so, it 
must not be told. It would make Capt. Dunmore very angry, 
if he should be told of our preparing to go away. He would say 
that we dont believe what he says. We must appear to believe 
these white men; altho' we know them to be very great liars. 

Log. There is no dano;er. Capt. Dunmore will make peace 
with us. The dark clouds are coming from the other side of the ' 
great water where Capt. Dunmore lives. The great chief of the 
white men is gettins; verv angry with his children here, because 
thev dont give him money enough. He w'ill soon lift the red 
hatchet against them. Logan has had revenge for the death of 
his friends. He has killed many. The rest he leaves to the 
white men themselves. They will save Logan the trouble of kill- 
ing anv more of them. Thev will cut each others throats verv 
soon. The great chief over the great water will want the red men 
to join him. Capt. Dunmore knows all this. He will make 
peace. Lie came here to sav^e us from the long knives. 

Kuhn. We must all go to the camp of the great captain to- 
morrow. 

Log. Go brothers, with all our warriors; but Logan will not 
go. Logan will never look in the face of a white man, w'ith the 
words of peace in his mouth. Logan consents to burv the red 
hatchet for the sake of his brothers; who have already suffered 
too much for him. Here interpreter take this talk to Capt. 
Dunmore. 

[Reads the speech from a belt of -white \s:ampum^ and then hands it 
to the interp7'eter.) 



j8 LOGAM, 

" I appeal to any white man to say, if ever he entered Logan's 
cabin hungry, and he gave him not meat: if ever he came cold 
and naked, and he clothed him not. During the course of the 
last long and bloody war Logan remained idle in his cabin, an 
advocate for peace. Such was my love for the whites, that my 
country-men pointed as they passed, and said, 'Logan is the 
friend of the white men.' I had even thought to have lived with 
you, but for the injuries of one man. Colonel Cresap, the last 
spring, in cold blood, and unprovoked, murdered all the relations 
of Logan, not even sparing my women and children. There runs 
not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature. This 
called on me for revenge. 1 have sought it. I have killed many: 
I have fully glutted my vengeance: for my country I rejoice at 
the beams of peace. But do not harbour a thought that mine is 
the joy of fear. Logan never felt fear. He will not turn on his 
heel to save his life. Who is there to mourn for Logan.? — Not 
one." 

{Exeunt omnes. 



A DIALOGUE 



BETWEEN 



A DANDY AND A BACK-WOODS- MAN 



PREFACE 



The following dialogue was composed at the request of the 
students of the BufFaloe Seminary and recited at their last exhi- 
bition. It was well received by the audience. Since then it 
has received some attention in different parts of the country and 
been recited in different schools and Thespian Societies, The 
author has therefore thought proper to republish it under his 
own name. 

Some expressions in this dialogue may appear rough and un- 
couth, and a few of them objectionable on another ground. Let 
the blame, if any, rest where it ought; it is not the fault of the 
author, more than it was that of Shakespeare that ''the age in 
which he lived was not an age of delicacy." Like others in the 
dramatic personification, the author has used the proverbs, idiom, 
and phraseology of those people whose manners he intended to 
represent. 

If some expressions in the dialogue should excite the blush 
and blame of prudery, no matter. I'he historian like the con- 
noisseur in painting and statuary, is best pleased with a portrait 
faithful to the features and figure of its original. This little dia 
logue is such. The state of society which it describes is precisely > 
such as existed at the period of time alluded to. Even the facts 
6-41 



42 PREFJCE. 



stated by "the Back-woods-man" are historical. Its language 
that which was in current use among our first settlers. 

From a portrait of the manners of former times, we have it 
in our power to make a contrast of two widely different states of 
society, which results in a conclusion, in favor of the present, 
which cannot fail to be highly gratifying to every lover of the 
physical, moral, and religious happiness of man. 



Wellsbup>.gh, September the 2 1823. 



A DIALOGUE 

BETWEEN A DANDY AND A BACK-WOODS-MAN. 

The following original dialogue, was first acted at the last exhibition at the 
BufFaloe Seminary, with great applause — by Mr. Samuel Mitchel, in the character 
of the Back-woods-man, and Mr. John Andrews, in that of the Dandy. 

The curtain rises and presents the Back-woods-man in an hunting shirt, a shot- 
pouch, with his powderhorn on his right side, with his feet and legs, dressed, of 
course, in leggins and mockasons, A Spruce little Dandy in the dress of his order 
approaches him. The dialogue then begins. 

Dandy. Good morning sir. I am glad to see you; I have 
often heard and read of the Back-woods-men: and supposing, 
from your dress you are one of them, I should like to have a 
little conversation with you, concerning the first settlement of 
this country, and your wars with the Indians. 

Back-woods-man. — With all my heart. 

Dan. I have no doubt your tales of former times are highly 
interesting and entertaining, and of course worthy of remem- 
brance. 

Back. For the matter of that, I cannot say much in their 
favor. I have no larnin, an I never was much of a hand at tellin 
tales; howenever, I will do with you as I have often seed them 
do in the Court, in West Liberty, I will answer such questons 
as you will ax me. ' 

Dan. What time did you come to this country? 

Back. In the year 1773, ^^'^^ summer before Dunmore's war, 



44 d DIALOGUE. 



my father came over the mountins, and settled in this part of the 
country. I was then a thumpin chunk of a boy, may be ten or 
a dozen years old. 

Dan. What was the external appearance of the country at 
at your first recollection of it? 

Back. Why, Sir, the tarnal appearance of the country was, 
that it was all wild woods, and full of deers, and bears, and tur- 
kies, and rattlesnakes — and in the summer time, the weeds was 
so high, that you could track a man on horseback, at full galop. 

Dan. I suppose. Sir, you had then but few of the comforts 
of civilized life. 

Back. Why, we was not very fine to be sure, but we was civil 
enough; for the war which placed our night caps in danger every 
day, made us very lovin to one another; one man then was worth 
as much as twenty is now; but if you mean fine things about 
house, and stores, and mills, and meeting houses, and big roads, 
we had no such things; or if you mean squires, and preachers, 
and lawyers, and judges, and sheriffs, we had no such cattle among 
us for many years. 

Dan. How could society exist in such circumstances? What 
was your diet? 

Back. We subsisted as well as we could. Our vittals was 
venzon, bear meat, wild turkies, and arter we got to raisin corn 
we had plenty of mush and milk and hog and homony. 

Dan. And pray, old gentleman, what was the furniture of 
your houses in those early times? 

Back. The furniture of our cabbins was trenches, woodiri 
bowls, gourds, and hard shelled squashes, and some times a few 
old pewter plates, and tin cups. 

Dan. But tell me, how did you procure those indispensable 
necessaries without which society cannot subsist? 



A DIALOGUE. 45 



Back. O! Don't you talk so high flowin. What do you 
mean by spensable necessaries ? 

Dan. I mean salt, iron, steel, and such like things. 

Back. O! I understand you now; I will tell you all about 
that. We gathered all the deer skins, and bear skins, and fur 
that we could get through the year, and every fall the neighbors 
would join the gither and rig up a parcel of our horses aud pack- 
saddles, and load them with oats and corn, and leave some at Red 
Stone, Tomleson's, Oldtown, Hagerstown, and Fredericktown, 
to feed the horses on the return ; our wallets were filled with cakes 
and good jirk. When we got to Baltimore we sold our skins and 
fur for iron, steel, and salt and powder and lead, and some tin 
cups, and if a little stranger or a wedding was shortly expected 
in one of the families, a half a pound of bohea tea was sometimes 
fetched out for the frolic. This was drunk out of tin cups, if we 
happened to have them, if not, we drunk it out of noggins or 
bowls. 

I must tell you a bit of a joke to let you know how little we 
knowed about things on tother side of the mountins. Sometime 
after the country had been settled, a parcel of us undertook to 
take a drove of beeves to Baltimore; at a sartin place in the moun- 
tins, where we staid all night, our landlord and his hired man stole 
two of our bells. The drove had not gone far in the mornin be- 
fore the bells was missed; some of our men went back, made 
search, got the bells and hung them round the necks of the lad- 
dies and marched them before them till they overtook the drove; 
a jury was held, and they was condemned to take so many lashes 
from each drovyer. They were stript to the buff, and tied up to 
the trees. When the drovyer that owned one of the bells got 
the hickory in his hand, now? says he, you infernal scoundrel I'll 
work your jacket nineteen to a dozen. Only what a pityful fig- 



46 A DIALOGUE. 



ure I should have made parading the streets of Baltimore without 
a bell on my horse. 

Dan. What was your education in those days? 

Back. I will tell you what my larnin was. Soon arter I had 
larn'd to speak, I larned to mock every bird, and beast in the 
woods; I could bleat like a fawn; kwock like a turkey; oohoo 
like an owl; and howl like a wolf, with the face of clay — next I 
larned to shoot the bow and arrow, throw the tomhok, and handle 
the rifle; and I finished by runin, jumpin, and wraslin, and de- 
pend upon it, it took a fellow of spunk to measure the ground 
with my back. 

Dan. I suppose you must have been an excellent marksman? 

Back. Let me alone for that, I could have hit a midge's eye 
fifty yards, if I could have seed it. A squirrels head on the top 
of a tree was a sure mark for me; if I once drew sight on it, I 
was sure to open his brain pan, and make him hunt for the ground 
the shortest way he could find it. By the time I was fourteen 
years of age, I was made a soldier in the fort, and had all my war 
apparatusses, and a port hole to defend: I was then of more 
value than I am now, every man, woman, and child considered 
me as one of their protectors, but now I am getting old and out 
of date. 

Dan. Father! I hope not. But I must say yours was a 
strange state of society; every man was a hunter, a soldier, or if 
you please, a 'sharp shooter* and a farmer. 

Back. Aye, indeed, it was all that. 

Dan. I have read that the state of society may be ascertained 
by certain criteria such as marriage ceremonies, songs, stories and 
so on. Will you be so good as to give me an account of one of 
your marriages. 

Back. Surely I will. In some places we had some old man 



A DIALOGUE. 47 



who said he had been a minister or squire, or an elder who said 
some kind of a ceremony for a marriage, and it did very well, 
they lived together as well arterwards as our people do now. 

Dan. Relate, if you please, the whole process of a wedding. 

Back. A weddin made a great rumpuss in a neighborhood 
every body that was not ax'd was mad as a wet hen, so that there 
was often a great deal, of fun, and a great deal of mischief at a 
weddin. 

In the mornin of the marriage day, the company gathered at 
the house of the groom, and tuck their march, two and two, boys 
and gals, to go to the bride's house. When they got about half 
way, two men would single out to run for the bottle, and such a 
race you never saw, thro' brush, over logs, up hill and down 
dale, till they come to the bride's house. He that got first 
to the bride's house, got black betty, which was the name they 
called the bottle; back he run as if old nick were arter him till 
he met the company. He was the clever fellow. The company 
stopt, and every boy and gal, old and young, big and little, must 
kiss black betty; that is to take a good slug of dram. But it 
often happened that the neighbors that was not ax'd, took it into 
their heads to make mischief, they would fall tree tops, and tie 
grape vines a cross the road, and sometimes plant themselves 
behind logs and brushes, with their guns, and fire them off so as 
to cover the whole company with smoke, and then such jumpin 
of bosses, and squallin of the gals, you never heard; sometimes 
the bosses would make their riders hunt for the ground, and if 
an elbow or shoulder was out of joint, no matter, it was soon 
well again. In the night, the people that was not ax'd, would 
cut off the mains and tails of the bosses belonging to the weddin 
company. 

I once saw a couple of horns set up on two poles, one on 



48 A DIALOGUE. 



each side of the road, where a weddin company had to pass. Do 
you know the meanin of that? If you don't they did, and it had 
like to played the deal and turned up Jack.'-' 

Dan. I should like to hear something of their toasts and 
healths on these occasions. 

Back. They had no toast that I know of but what was made 
of bread, and not much of that nather, for in them days we had 
but little bread beside jonnycake and pone, and if you wouldn't 
cut that you might let it alone. When a man wanted to drink a 
health at a weddin, he would call out, where is black bettv? 1 
want to kiss her sweet lips. When he got the bottle he would 
say, 'here's to the company, not forgetting myself; and here's to 
the bride and groom — thumpin luck and big children. 

Dan. Had they any other kinds of amusements but such as 
you have mentioned.? 

Back. O yes! They danced jigs and reels like all the world, 
and when they got tired, some would call a halt for a story or a 
song. Then would come a story about Jack and the jiant, in 
which the jiant was sure to come out of the little end of the horn ; 
when this is done, some pretty gal would sing a good love song 
about murder, and so on they went, sometimes three or four 
days, may be a whole week. It was a high frolic, you may de- 
pend on it. Your wedners are as still as mice — I dont like it; 
marriage commonly comes but once in a body's life and there 
ought to be some fun about it. But new lords have new laws. 

Dan. I perceive sir, that the ladies in your days of old, were 
not so well polished as they are now; they had no rings, ruffles, 
and leghorns. 

Back. Some few of them got some brass rings from their 
mothers, or grand mothers, but they was not thought the better 

* This was frequently done when the chastity of" the bride was suspected. 



A DIALOGUE. 49 



for wearing them; as for ruffles, they had not much to make them 
of; as for leghorns, I cant say much about them — legs to be sure 
they had, but I don't know that any of them had horns. 

Dan. I perceive from all you have said Mr. Back-woods- 
man, that you must have been in a deplorable condition — your 
country a willderness; your habitations wretched hovels, or cab- 
bins; your furniture gourds, your marriages scenes of riot and 
obscenity: No places of worship; no schools, courts, nor civil 
government of any sort; a continual warfare with the Indians. 
No comforts; no elegancies for the body, and no means of im- 
provement for the mind — Heavens ! What a condition of human 
society! Was this country a Tartary or a Siberia.? Surely, Sir, 
you must have been neither more nor less than a set of semi bar- 
barians ! 

[At this last expression, the Backwoodsman darts a look of indigna- 
tion at the dandy. ^ 

Back. Young Buck! you have called me Back-woods-man, 
and I confessed my name and I have answered all the questions 
you have ax'd me; now pray, who are you? Some time ago my 
daughter Betsy, showed me a picture in Mr. Berry's paper, and 
she said it was a thing called a Dandy, and you hemlook very 
much like it, with your bell crowned hat. How many capes have 
you got on your coat.? Look at trumpet muzzled trowsers 
there? What makes your waist so slim? You must have cords 
around you to pull up the ribs, and squeeze in the breadbasket, 
and must I suffer such a little finikin, puny pinched up thing, 
to call me and the rest of the first settlers of this country, simple 
barbarians? Young thing, I am old to be sure, but there is oil 
enough in my bones for you yet. 

{T^he Backwoodsman draws his fist, hits the Dandy in the face, who 
falls at length on the floor, his cane and hat fall at some distance from 
him.) 7 



so A DIALOGUE. 

Dan. Murder! help! help! For God's sake deliver me! 
[Several come running to his assistance.) 

Back. Stop young men, I shall not strike him any more. 
Let him get up himself, I have not hurt him much, I'm sure. 
Get up pigmy. 

{'The Dandy endeavours to rise, but is unable on account of his cors- 
lets.) 

Back. What's the matter with him? His whole body is as 
stiff as a stake. Give me your hand. {He helps him up, and po- 
litely hands him his hat and cane.) 

Dan. For what reason did you strike me? It was not my 
intention to give you any offense; you must have mistaken the 
meaning of what I said. 

Back. No matter young man I go off half cocked sometimes ; 
thats all. And now I'll tell you a piece of my mind — A Back- 
woods-man is a queer sort of a fellow; he never gives an affront, 
and he never takes one; if you call him a rogue, a liar, or a sim- 
ple barbarian, he will be sure to knock you down, or try for it. 
If he's not a man of larnin, he has plain good sense. If his dress 
is not fine, his inside works are good and his heart is sound. If 
he is not rich or great, he knows that he is a father of his country. 
Yes, young man, instead of that pretty little stick, I have had to 
handle the rifle and the tomahoc. Instead of a bell crowned hat, 
I have had to score the woods with an old bit of a hankerchy on 
my head, in scoutin arter Ingins. Instead of such a smelling 
bottle as you hold to your nose, I have had to smell gunpowder. 
The little land I own has been dearly purchased by the blood of 
my relations! You little dandies, and other big folks may freely 
enjoy the fruits of our hardships; you may feast, where we had 
to starve; you may frolic, where we had to fight; but at the peril 
of all of you, give the Back-woods-man, none of your slack jaw. 



The patrons of, "The notes on the settlement, and wars of 
the western country." Are informed that the work only awaits 
the fulfilment of a contract for paper, rendered impracticable for 
some time past, by the want of water in the stream on which the 
mill is situated. 

The author is thankful to those gentlemen who have returned 
the subscriptions sent to them; and hopes those who have not 
done so, will return theirs with all convenient despatch. 

Wellsburgh, September the 13 1823. 



APPENDIX. 



I.— LOGAN— THE MURDER OF HIS FAMILY— HIS REVENGE. 

We extract the follozving account of Logan from "Red Men of the Ohio Falley" by 

J. R. Dodge, p. 132. 

Logan, whose name has been rendered immortal by his touch- 
ingly eloquent speech to Lord Dunmore, was a son of Skikelli- 
mus, a head chief of the Iroquois living on the Susquehanna, 
a disciple of the Moravian missionaries of Count Zinzendorf, 
whom the old chief had entertained on his visit to Shamokin, 
Pennsylvania, in 1742. When he appeared as a candidate for 
baptism, the missionaries hesitated on account of his having been 
baptized previously by a Catholic priest in Canada — upon which 
he destroyed a small idol which he always wore about his neck. 
He was a man of influence and integrity. Skikellimus had a 
high regard for James Logan, Secretary of the Province of Penn- 
sylvania, and named his son for him. The early life of Logan 
was spent in Pennsylvania, where he acquired an enviable char- 
acter for kindness and amiability. His personal appearance was 
commanding. David Zeisberger, the Moravian friend of his fa- 
ther, speaks of him as a man of quick comprehension and good 
judgment. 

Hon. R. P. Maclay gives an anecdote in illustration, which 
has its scene in Mifflin county, at the Big Spring, four miles west 
of Logan's Spring, where Judge Brown, the first settler of the 
Kishacoquillas Valley, was surprised by the Indian Logan. 



54 AFFEJs^BIX. 



"The first time I saw the spring," said the old gentleman'-' to 
a brother of the narrator of this anecdote, "my brother, James 
Reed and myself, had wandered out of the valley in search of 
land, and finding it good, were looking about for springs. About 
a mile from this we started a bear, and separated to get a shot at 
him. I was traveling along, looking about on the rising ground 
for the bear, when I came suddenly upon the spring, and being 
dry, and more rejoiced to find so fine a spring than to have killed 
a dozen bears, I set my rifle against a bush and rushed down the 
bank, and laid down to drink. Upon putting my head down, I 
saw reflected in the water, on the opposite side, the shadow of a 
tall Indian. I sprang to my rifie, when the Indian gave a yell, 
whether for peace or war I was not just then sufficiently master 
of my faculties to determine; but upon my seizing my rifie and 
facing him, he knocked up the pan of his gun, threw out the pri- 
ming, and extended his open palm to me in token of friendship. 
After putting down our guns, we again met at the spring and 
shook hands. This was Logan — the best specimen of humanity 
I ever met with, either white or red. He could speak a little 
English, and told me there was another white hunter a little way 
down the stream, and offered to guide me to his camp. There I 
first met your father. We remained together in the valley a week, 
looking for springs and selecting lands, and laid the foundation 
of a friendship which never had the slightest interruption. 

"We visited the camp at Logan's Spring, and your father and 
he shot at a mark for a dollar a shot. Log;an lost four or five 
rounds, and acknowledged himself beaten. When we were about 
to leave him he went into his hut and brought out as. many deer- 
skins as he had lost dollars, and handed them to Mr. Maclay, who 
refused to take them, alleging that we had been his guests, and 

*Judge Brown. 



AFP E, YD IX. 55 



did not come to rob him; that the shooting had been only a trial 
ot skill, and the bet merely nominal, Logan drew himself up 
with great dignity, and said, 'Me bet to make you shoot your 
best — me gentleman, and me take your dollar if me beat.' So 
he was obliged to take the skins, or affront our friend, whose 
nice sense of honor would not permit him to receive even a horn 
ot powder in return." 

Mrs. Norris, a daughter of the old judge, living near the 
spring, is authority for further incidents in the life of this abor- 
iginal celebrity. 

Logan supported his family by killing deer, dressing the 
skins, and selling them to the whites. He had sold quite a par- 
cel to one De Yong, a tailor, who lived in Ferguson's Valley, 
below the gap. Tailors in those days dealt extensively in buck- 
skin breaches. Logan received his pay, according to stipulation, 
in wheat. The wheat, on being taken to the mill, was found so 
w^orthless that the miller refused to grind it. Lo2;an was much 
chagrined, and attempted in vain to obtain redress from the tailor. 
He then took the matter before his friend Brown, then a magis- 
trate; and on the judge's questioning him as to the character of 
the wheat and what was in it, Logan sought in vain to find words 
to express the precise nature of the article with which the wheat 
was adulterated, but said that it resembled in appearance the wheat 
itself "It must have been cheat^'' said the judge. "Yoh," said 
Logan, "that very good name for him." A decision was awarded 
in Logan's favor, and a writ given to Logan to hand to the con- 
stable, which, he was told, would bring him the money for his 
skins. But the untutored Indian — too uncivilized to be dishon- 
est — could not understand by what magic this little paper would 
force the tailor against his will to pay for the skins. The judge 
took down his own commission, with the arms of the king upon 



56 APFEXBIX. 



it, and explained to him the first principles and operations of civil 
law. "Law good," said Logan, "make rogues pay." But how 
much more simple and effective was the law which the Great 
Spirit had impressed upon his heart — to do as he would be done by I 

When a sister of Mrs. Norris (afterwards Mrs. General Pot- 
ter) was just beginning to learn to walk, her mother happened to 
express her regret that she could not get her a pair of shoes to 
give more firmness to her step. Logan stood by, but said noth- 
ing. He soon after asked Mrs. Brown to let the little girl go up 
and spend the day at his cabin. The cautious heart of the mother 
was alarmed at such a proposition; but she knew the delicacy of 
an Indian's feelings — and she knew Logan, too — and with a secret 
reluctance, but apparent cheerfulness, she complied with his re- 
quest. The hours of the day wore slowly away, and it was nearly 
night, when her little one had not returned. But just as the sun 
was going down, the trusty chief was seen coming down the path 
with his charge; and in a moment more the little one trotted into 
its mother's arms, proudly exhibiting a beautiful pair of moccas- 
ins on her little feet, the product of Logan's skill. 

During the old French war, Logan lived in Pennsylvania, a 
firm friend of the whites. After his removal to the Indian town 
which bore his name, situated on the west side of the Ohio River, 
a little above Cross Creeks, seventy-five miles below Pittsburg, 
his revenge was aroused by the murder of his family, near the 
mouth of Yellow Creek, in what is now Jefferson County. 

Injustice seems to have been done to the memory of Colonel 
Cresap, in the popular mind, by attributing to him this cruel and 
impolitic transaction. Logan, in his famous speech, alludes to 
him as the murderer of his family. As good authority as that 
of George Rogers Clark entirely exonorates him from all connec- 
tion with the affair. It seems that Dr. John Conolly, a nephew 



APPEXDLY. SI 



of George Croghan, a resident of Virginia, sought to establish 
the exclusive authority of that State over Fort Pitt and vicinity. 
He issued a proclamation for a gathering for military organiza- 
tion at Redstone, now Brownsville, on the 24th and 25th of Jan- 
uary, 1774, but was arrested before the time appointed by Arthur 
St. Clair, who represented the Pennsylvania proprietors. On his 
release, he came to Pittsburg, in March, and in the name and un- 
der authority of Lord Dunmore, he commenced building the fort, 
which he called Fort Dunmore. His course tended palpably to 
precipitate a war with the Indians, and seemed to be shaped pur- 
posely to accomplish that end. He wrote inflammatory letters 
to Virginians, accusing the Indians of stealing horses from the 
settlements, and committing other depredations." 

An alarm spread through the border, occasioned by the kill- 
ing of a white man near Wheeling by a band of Cherokees. A 
party of Virginia surveyors and explorers, under the lead of Cap- 
tain Cresap, repaired at once to Wheeling. Clark was one of this 
party. At this time a letter was received from Conolly, requesting 
them to remain in position a few days; and soon after, another, 
informing him that war was inevitable; that the country should 
be covered with scouts, and the inhabitants should fortify them- 
selves. In this exigency, a council of settlers and Indian traders 
was called, and war was formally declared. During the same eve- 
ning two scalps were brought in, probably those of friendly Ind- 
ians, who had been sent by the trader, William Butler, to look 
after the cargo of the canoe attacked by the Cherokees. Ebenezer 
Zane opposed the killing of these Indians without avail. The 
party accused, upon being questioned about them, coolly replied 
that they had fallen overboard from the boat into the river. 

The day following this war declaration, canoes of Indians were 
seen on the river, screening themselves from view under cover of 
8 



58 APPESDLX. 



an island. They were chased fifteen miles, engaged in battle, in 
which a few were wounded on both sides, and one Indian taken 
prisoner. Ammunition and other warlike stores were found in 
their canoes. It was agreed that the party should march the next 
day to the attack of Logan's camp, some thirty miles up the river. 
The expedition was entered upon; and when within five miles of 
the camp, the impropriety of executing the enterprise was urged 
by Cresap himself, on the ground of its injustice, as it was gene- 
rally agreed that these Indians were friendly. The party willingly 
returned, disgusted with the undertaking — starting the same eve- 
ning in the direction of the Redstone. 

A few days after this, occurred the Yellow Creek tragedy. On 
the Virginia side, at a settlement of a man named Baker, a party 
of thirty-two whites was gathered under the lead of Captain Dan- 
iel Greathouse. From an Indian encampment upon the other 
side, came a party of five men, bringing with them one woman 
and her infant child. Three of the men were plied with rum till 
they were drunk ; the other two and the woman, refusing to drink, 
were shot down, while the drunken Indians were tomahawked. 
The little pappoose was saved, at the intercession of the mother, 
who reminded them that the little half-breed was akin to them- 
selves. The Indians, hearing the firing over the river, sent two 
men to make inquiries about it, who were shot down as they 
leaped from their canoes upon the beach. A larger deputation 
was received in the same way, many of them being killed, and the 
remainder compelled to retire. The murdered Indians were 
scalped. Shots were exchanged across the river without effect. 
None of the whites were even wounded. The survivors fled 
down the river. Thus resulted this treacherous, cowardly and 
disgraceful affair, in which three of the nearest relatives of Logan, 
probably his brother and a sister, were inhumanly butchered. 



AFPEJS'DIX. 59 



This aroused the tiger in that amiable chieftain, and he swore 
that the tomahawk should drink the blood of the white man, till 
its vengeance should be appeased with a tenfold expiation. His 
oath was kept, and more than thirty are said to have fallen during 
the summer of 1774, by the hand of Logan. 

Logan had been a persistent friend of the whites, and had just 
persuaded to peace an Indian council, declaring that the "Long 
Knives," or Virginians, would come like trees in the woods, and 
drive them from their lands, unless the hatchet was laid down. 
His counsel prevailed, and he was rewarded for his fidelity by the 
murder of his family in cold blood. 

Some time was yet spent in negotiations with the Ohio In- 
dians. The Delawares were inclined for peace; the Senecas and 
Shawnees urged them to take up the hatchet, taunted them, call- 
ing them Shwonnocks^ or whites, greatly to the exasperation of the 
young Delawares. Dr. ConoUy still sought to stir up war, and 
it is said intercepted their Shawnee guides on a return from an 
escort of whites, wounding one, even after they had once been 
saved from his clutches by his uncle, George Croghan. War was 
inevitable; and before the month of August, the Shawnees, and 
Senecas or Mingoes, recruited by a few Delawares and Cherokees, 
were in the field. 

Logan, with a band of eight chosen warriors, boldly penetrated 
the white settlements at the head waters of the Monongahela, 
took many scalps, captured several prisoners, and led them off in 
safety, eluding all pursuit, and defying all attempts at capture. 

"One of the incidents attending this incursion deserves to be 
mentioned, as illustrating the character of Logan. While hover- 
ing, with his followers, around the skirts of a thick settlement, 
he suddenly came within view of a small field, recently cleared, 
in which three men were pulling flax. Causing the greater part 



6o APPEJYDIX. 



of his men to remain where they were, Logan, together with two 
others, crept up within long shot of the white men and fired. 
One man fell dead, the remaining two attempted to escape. The 
elder of the fugitives, (Hellew,) was quickly overtaken and made 
prisoner by Logan's associates, while Logan himself, having 
thrown down his rifle, pressed forward alone in pursuit of the 
younger of the white men, whose name was Robinson. The con- 
test was keen for several hundred yards, but Robinson, unluckily, 
looking around, in order to have a view of his pursuer, ran against 
a tree with such violence as completely to stun him, and render 
him insensible for several minutes. 

Upon recovering, he found himself bound, and lying upon 
his back, while Logan sat by his side, with unmoved gravity, 
awaiting his recovery. He was then compelled to accompany 
them in their further attempts upon the settlements, and in the 
course of a few days, was marched off with great rapidity for their 
villages in Ohio. During the march, Logan remained silent and 
melancholy, probably brooding over the total destruction of his 
family. The prisoners, however, were treated kindly, until they 
arrived at an Indian villaT;e upon the Muskingum. When within 

or o 

a mile of the town, Logan became more animated, and uttered the 
"scalp hallo" several times, in the most terrible tones. The 
never failing scene of insult and torture then began. Crowds 
flocked out to meet them, and a line was formed for the gauntlet. 
Logan took no share in the cruel game, but did not attempt 
to repress it. He, however, gave Robinson, whom he regarded 
as his own prisoner, some directions as to the best means of reach- 
ing the council house in safety, and displayed some anxiety for 
his safe arrival, while poor Hellew was left in total ignorance, and 
permitted to struggle forward as best he could. Robinson, under 
the patronage of Logan, escaped with a few slight bruises, but 



APPE.YDLY. 6 1 



Hellew, not knowing where to run, was dreadfully mangled, and 
would probably have been killed upon the spot, had not Robin- 
son (not without great risk on his own part) seized him by the 
hand and dragged him into the council house. 

On the following morning, a council was called in order to 
determine their fate, in which Logan held a conspicuous supe- 
riority over all who were assembled. Hellew's destiny came first 
under discussion, and was quickly decided by an almost unani- 
mous vote of adoption. Robinson's was most difficult to deter- 
mine. A majority of the council (partly influenced by a natural 
thirst for vengeance upon at least one object, partly, perhaps, by 
a lurking jealousy of the most imposing superiority of Logan's 
character,) were obstinately bent upon putting him to death. Lo- 
gan spoke for nearly an hour upon the question; and if Robin- 
son is to be believed, with an energy, copiousness, and dignity, 
which would not have disgraced Henry himself. He appeared at 
at no loss for either words or ideas; his tones were deep and mu- 
sical, and were heard by the assembly with the silence of death. 
All, however, was vain. Robinson was condemned, and within 
an hour afterward, was fastened to the stake. Logan stood apart 
from the crowd with his arms folded, and his eyes fixed upon the 
scene with an air of stern displeasure. 

When the fire was about to be applied, he suddenly strode 
into the circle, pushing aside those who stood in the way, and 
advancing straight up to the stake, cut the cords with his toma- 
hawk, and taking the prisoner by the hand, led him with a deter- 
mined air to his own wigwam. The action was so totally unex- 
pected, and the air of the chief so determined, that he had reached 
the door of his wigwam before any one ventured to interfere. 
Much dissatisfaction was then expressed, and threatening symp- 
toms of a tumult appeared; but so deeply rooted was his author- 



62 APFE^'BIX. 



ity, that in a few hours all was quiet, and Robinson, without 
opposition, was permitted to enter an Indian family. He re- 
mained with Logan until the treaty of Fort Pitt, in the autumn 
of the ensuing year, when he returned to Virginia. He ever re- 
tained the most unbounded admiration for Logan, and repeatedly 
declared that his countenance, when speaking, was the most strik- 
ing, varied, and impressive, that he ever beheld. An when it is 
recollected that he had often heard Lee and Henry, in all their 
glory, the compliment must be regarded as a very high one."''' 

Afterward, at the dictation of Logan, with some ink made 
with gunpowder, the following letter was written, and afterward 
found tied to a war-club in a house, on the north fork of Helston 
Creek, of a family that had been cut off by the Indians: 

"Captain Cresap: — What did you kill my people on Yellow 
Creek for? The white people killed my kin at Conestoga, a great 
while ago, and I thought nothing of that. But you killed my 
kin again, on Yellow Creek, and took my cousin prisoner. Then 
I thought I must kill too, and I have been three times to war 
since; but the Indians are not angry — only myself. 

Captain John Logan." 

The Long Knives, as the Virginians were called, now made a 
foray upon the Ohio territory, led by Colonel McDonald, who 
descended the great river to the mouth of Captina Creek, and 
thence pushed his way to the village of Wapatomica, on the Mus- 
kingum, destroying several villages on the way, and returning 
safely with three chiefs as prisoners. In August, the governor 
of Virginia raised three entire regiments west of the Blue Ridge, 
and placed General Andrew Lewis in command; at the same time 
an equal force, under command of Lord Dunmore, marched to 
form a junction with Lewis at the mouth of the Great Kanawha. 

''^From Jppcndix to "Western Adventure," by John A. Mc Clung, p. 278. 



APPE^TDIX. 63 



At the site of Lewisburg, Va., Lewis was joined by an indepen- 
dent regiment of Virginia volunteers, under command of Colonel 
John Fields, a brave and able officer. With forces now augmented 
to eleven hundred men, the commander awaited the coming of 
Col. Christian, with another regiment. After waiting a few days, 
without hearing any tidings from him, the order was given to 
march to the place of rendezvous. Dunmore had not yet arrived. 
At length a dispatch was received, telling Lewis that he had 
changed his plan, and designed to march at once upon the Scioto 
villages, whither Lewis was directed to repair. Disappointed at 
this change of route, he yet prepared to obey his superior, and 
promptly commenced preparations for crossing the Ohio. On 
the morning of October loth, two men were fired upon while 
scouting a mile or more from the camp. One was killed; the 
other gained the camp, and gave notice of the presence of a body 
of Indians. Colonel Charles Lewis, with one hundred and fifty 
Augusta troops, was posted to the right, and Colonel Fleming, 
with one hundred and fifty Botetourt, Bedford and Fincastle 
troops, were ordered to the bank of the Ohio on the left. Col- 
onel Lewis had marched scarcely a half mile, when, about sunrise, 
he received the attack of a large body of hostile Indians, and at 
the same time Fleming was engaged on the left. The attack was 
made with savage impetuosity, and repelled with heroic bravery. 
Soon both commandants fell mortally wounded, and the right 
wing was forced to yield, until reinforced by eight companies 
under command of Col. Fields. The Indians were now com- 
pelled to give away. Thus the battle raged till noon, and was 
continued, at intervals during the day. Under cover of the night 
the Indians retired, having made excellent use of the advantages 
enjoyed by their slow retreat, the close underwood and steep 
banks, in carrying off their wounded and throwing their dead in- 



64 AFFEMBIX. 



to the Ohio. The loss of the whites was severe — fifty-two men 
killed, half the commissioned officers, and nearly two hundred 
wounded; the Indians' loss is unknown — thirty-three were found 
upon the field, and many of the dead were thrown into the river. 
The probabilities are that the loss was pretty nearly equal. The 
Indian force engaged was about eleven hundred. Thus closed 
the ghastly scenes of the battle of Point Pleasant, one of the most 
sanguinary of Indian conflicts in the Valley of the Ohio. Logan, 
Cornstalk, EUinipsico, Red Hawk, and other chiefs of note, are 
said to have been present. Cornstalk's voice rung high above the 
din of battle — " Be strong ! Be strong ! " When a warrior man- 
ifested symptoms of fright, he is said to have buried his hatchet 
in his brain as cooly as if he had been a pale face. 

Lord Dunmore, with his division, numbering as many as that 
of General Lewis, passed the mountains at the Potomac Gap, and 
crossed the Ohio above Wheeling. A talk was had with the Se- 
necas and Delawares on the 6th of October. Passing down the 
river to the mouth of the Hockhocking, a halt was made and 
Fort Gower was erected. At this point — twenty-eight miles 
above Point Pleasant — during the fight, the roar of the musketry 
was distinctly heard by placing the ear upon the ground. Dun- 
more proceeded to the present site of Logan, Hocking county, 
and thence west to the left bank of Sippo Creek, seven miles 
southeast of Circleville. This encampment was named Camp 
Charlotte. 

A messenger was sent hence to Intercept General Lewis. Fired 
with zeal for signal victory over the Red Men, and smarting un- 
der the loss of his brother, he felt little inclination to heed the 
command of Dunmore, but pressed to Congo Creek, within stri- 
king distance of the Indian towns of Pickaway, and near to Old 
Chillicothe, the site of the present village of Westfall. The in- 



AFPEKBLX. 6s 



furiated Virginians could scarcely be restrained; they ventured 
to charge the royal governor with attempting to form an alliance 
with the Indian tribes for the benefit of Great Britain in the ap- 
proaching revolutionary struggle. Dunmore went to enforce his 
orders in person, and drew his sword on General Lewis, threat- 
ening him with instant death if he persisted in his obstinacy. 

The Indians were for peace; they had suffered sufficiently. 
Cornstalk upbraided his people because they had not listened to 
his suggestions of peace before the battle. "What," said he, 
"will you do now? The Big Knife is coming on us and we shall 
all be killed. Now you must fight, or we are undone." He 
paused for a reply. "Then let us kill all our women and chil- 
dren, and go and fight till we die." Still there was no answer. 
Rising, he struck his tomahawk sharply into a post of the coun- 
cil-house, exclaiming, "I'll go and make peace." The only res- 
ponse was a satisfactory "Ough! ough!" from the warriors. 

Colonel Wilson, of Dunmore's staff, says of his oratory in 
the council : 

"When he arose, he was no wise confused or daunted, but 
spoke in a distinct and audible voice, without stammering or re- 
petition, and with peculiar emphasis. His looks, while address- 
ing Dunmore, were truly grand and majestic, yet graceful and at- 
tractive. I have heard many celebrated orators, but never one 
whose powers of delivery surpassed those of Cornstalk on this 
occasion." 

John Gibson, the interpreter to Lord Dunmore, stated in 
"Jefferson's Notes," that on his arrival at the towns, Logan, the 
Indian, came to where the deponent was sitting with Cornstalk 
and the' other chiefs of the Shawnees, and asked him to walk out 
with him; that they went into a copse of wood, where they sat 
down, Vv'hen Logan, after shedding abundance of tears, delivered 

9 



66 AFPE.YDIX. 



to him the speech, nearly as related by Mr. Jefferson in his notes 
on the State of Virginia; that he, the deponent, told him that it 
was not Colonel Cresap who had murdered his relations, and that 
although his son. Captain Michael Cresap, was with the party 
that killed a Shawnese chief and other Indians, yet he was not pres- 
ent when his relations were killed at Baker's, near the mouth of 
Yellow Creek, on the Ohio; that this deponent, on his return to 
camp, delivered the speech to Lord Dunmore; and that the mur- 
ders perpetrated as above were considered as ultimately the cause 
of the war of 1774, commonly called Cresap's war." 

There are several versions of this remarkable speech, as re- 
ported by different authors. The following is the Jefferson ver- 
sion : 

'*I appeal to any white man to say if ever he entered Logan's 
cabin hungry, and he gave him not meat; if ever he came cold 
and naked, and he clothed him not. During the course of the 
last long and bloody war, Logan remained in his cab:n, an advo- 
cate tor peace. Such was my love for the whites, that my coun- 
trymen pointed as they passed, and said, 'Logan is the friend of 
white men.' I had even thought to have lived with you, but for 
the injuries of one man. Colonel Cresap, the last spring, in cold 
blood and unprovoked, murdered all the relations of Logan, not 
even sparing my women and children. There runs not a drop of 
my blood in the veins of any living creature. This called on me 
for revenge. I have sought it. I have killed many. I have fully 
glutted my vengeance For my country, I rejoice at the beams 
of peace. But do not harbor a thought that mine is the joy of 
fear. Logan never felt fear. He will not turn on his heel to save 
his life. Who is there to mourn for Logan ? Not one."'*' 

'^'From "Red Men of the Ohio Valley,''' p. 140 to 146. 



AFPEXDLY. 67 



THE SHADE OF LOGAN.— Bv Joseph D. Canning, Esy. 

I'hrough the wilds of the West, in the fall of the year, 
A wanderer strayed in pursuit of the deer; 
And clad in the garb of the hunter was he — 
The moccasined foot, and the bead-gartered knee. 

Though far towards the sunrise the wanderer's home, 
He loved in the gardens of nature to roam; 
By her melodies charmed, by her varying tale. 
He followed through forest and prairie her trail. 

By the shore of a river at sunset he strayed. 
And lingered to rest 'neath a sycamore shade; 
For soft was the breath of the summer-like air, 
And the sweetest of scenes for a painter was there. 

He mused: and in slumber the past was restored. 
When thy waters, Scioto, a wilderness shored! 
And the shade of a Mingo before him uprose — 
The friend of the white man, the fear of his foes. 

Erect and majestic his form as of yore; 

The mists of the stream as a mantle he wore; 

And o'er his dark bosom the bright wampum showed, 

Like the hues of the bow on the folds of a cloud. 

The tones of his voice were the accents of grief, 
For gloomy and sad was the Shade of the Chief; 
And low as the strain of the whispering shell 
His words on the ear of the slumberer fell: — 



68 APPE.YDLX. 



"I appeal to the white man ungrateful, to say 

If he e'er from my cabin went hungry away? 

If naked and cold unto Logan he came, 

And he gave him no blanket, and kindled no flame? 

"When war, long and bloody, last deluged the land. 

Not Logan was seen at the head of his band; 

From his cabin he looked for the fighting to cease, 

And, scorned by his brethren, wrought the wampum of peacs 

"My love to the white man was steadfast and true, 
Unlike the deep hatred my red brothers knew; 
With him I had thought to have builded my home. 
No more o'er the forest and prairie to roam. 

"When the leaf which pale Autumn is withering now 
Was fresh from its budding, and green on the bough, 
Unprovoked, by the white man my kindred were slain. 
And Logan became the wild Indian again! 

"There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins 
Of any who lives — not a mortal remains! 
Not even my wife or my children were spared — 
All alike at the hand of the murderer shared! 

"This called tor revenge, and to seek it I rose; 
My hatchet is red with the blood of my foes. 
The ghosts of the dead are appeased by their sire — 
I have glutted my vengeance, and scorn to retire! 

"I joy for my country that peace should appear. 
But think not that mine is the gladness of fear. 
Logan never felt fear. In the deadliest strife 
He'll not turn on his heel for the saving of life. 



APPEXDLY. 69 



"Who is there to sorrow for Loo;an? Not one! " 
Thus spoke, and the Shade of the Mingo was gone! 
But Logan, thy words in his mem'ry are borne, 
Who waking did mourn thee, and ever will mourn.'" 



EPITAPH FOR THE LOGAN MONUMENT.— By Jos. D. Canning. 

Logan! to thy memory here, 
White men do this tablet rear; 
On its front we grave thy name — 
In our hearts shall live thy fame. 

While Niagara's thunders roar: 

Or Erie's surges lash the shore: 

While onward broad Ohio glides, 

And seaward roll her Indian tides. 

So long thei?- memory, who did give 

These floods their sounding names, shall live. 

While time, in kindness, buries low 
The gory axe and warrior's bow, 
O, Justice! faithful to thy trust, 
Record the virtues of the just! f 



NARRATIVE OF COLONEL ROBERT PATTERSON. 

"In the fall of 1776, I started from McClellan's Station, 
(now Georgetown, Ky.), in company with Joseph M'Nutt, Da- 
vid Perry, James Wernock, James Templeton, Edward Mitchell, 
and Isaac Greer, to go to Pittsburg. We procured provisions 

*From "Williams' American Pioneer" Vol. I, pp. 116 and 117. 
'\From "Williams American Pioneer ," Vol. 11, p. 468. 



70 APPEjYDIX. 



for our journey at the Blue Licks, from the well-known stone 
house, the Buffalo. At Limestone, we procured a canoe, and 
started up the Ohio River by water. Nothing material transpired 
during several of the first days of our journev. We landed at 
Point Pleasant, where was a fort commanded by Captain Ar- 
buckle. After remaining there a short time, and receiving dis- 
patches from Captain Arbuckle for the commandant at Wheeling, 
we again proceeded. Aware that Indians were lurking along the 
bank of the river, we traveled with the utmost caution. We usu- 
ally landed an hour before sunset, cooked and eat our supper, and 
went on until after dark. At night we lay without fire, as con- 
venient to our canoe as possible, and started again in the morning 
at daybreak. We had all agreed that if any disaster should befall 
us, by day or night, that we would stand by each other, as long 
as any help could be afforded. At length the memorable rith of 
October arrived. During the day we passed several new improve- 
ments, which occasioned us to be less watchful and careful than 
we had been before. Late in the evening we landed opposite the 
island (on the Ohio side of the river, in what is now Athens 
county), then called the Hockhocking, and were beginning to 
flatter ourselves that we should reach some inhabitants the next 
day. Having eaten nothing that day, contrary to our usual prac- 
tice, we kindled a fire and cooked supper. After we had eaten 
and made the last of our flour into a loaf of bread, and put it 
into an old brass kettle to bake, that we might be ready to start 
again, in the morning, at daybreak, we lay down to rest, keeping 
the same clothes on at night that we wore during the day. For 
the want of a better, I had on a hunting shirt and a breech-clout 
(so called), and flannel leggins. I had my powder horn and shot 
pouch on my side, and placed the butt of my gun under my head. 
Five of our company lay on the east side of the fire, and James 



AFPEXDIX. 71 



Templeton and myself on the west; v/e were lying on our left 
sides, myself in front, with my right hand hold of my gun. Tem- 
pleton was laying close behind me. This was our position, and 
asleep, when we were fired upon by a party of Indians. Imme- 
diately after the fire they rushed upon us with tomahawks, as if 
determined to finish the work of death they had begun. It ap- 
peared that one Indian had shot on my side of the fire. I saw 
the flash of the gun, and felt the ball pass through me, but where 
I could not tell, nor was it, at first, painful. I sprang to take up 
my gun, but my right shoulder came to the ground. I made 
another efirirt, and was half bent in getting up, when an Indian 
sprang past the fire with savage fierceness, and struck me with his 
tomahawk. From the position I was in, it went between two 
ribs, just behind the backbone, a little below the kidney, and pen- 
etrated the cavity of the body. He then immediately turned to 
Templeton (who, by this time, had got to his feet with his gun in 
hand), and sized his gun. A desperate scufiie ensued, but Temple- 
ton held on, and finally bore off the gun. In the meantime, I made 
from the light, and in my attempt to get out of sight, I was delayed 
for a moment by getting my right arm fist between a tree and a sap- 
ling, but having got clear and away from the light of the fire, and 
finding that I had lost the use of my right arm, I made a shift to 
keep it up by drawing it through the straps of my shot-pouch. I 
could see the crowd about the fire, but the firing had ceased, and 
the strife seemed to be over. I had reason to believe that the 
others were all shot and tomahawked. Hearing no one coming 
toward me, I resolved to go to the river, and if possible to get 
into the canoe and float down, thinking by that means I might 
possibly reach Point Pleasant, supposed to be about one hundred 
miles distant. Just as I got on the beach a little below the canoe, 
an Indian in the canoe gave a whoop, which gave me to under- 



72 APPEJ\'DIX. 



stand that It was best to withdraw. I did so; and with much 
difficulty got to an old log, and being very thirsty, faint and ex- 
hausted, I was glad to sit down. I felt the blood running, and 
heard it dropping on the leaves all around me. Presently I heard 
the Indians board the canoe and float past. All was now silent, 
and 1 felt myself in a most forlorn condition; I could not see 
the fire, but determined to find it, and see if any of my comrades 
were alive. I steered the course which I supposed the fire to be, 
and having reached it, 1 found Templeton alive, but wounded in 
nearly the same manner that I was; James Wernock was also 
dangerously wounded, two balls having passed through his body; 
Joseph M'Nutt was dead and scalped; D. Perry was wounded, 
but not badly, and Isaac Greer was missing. The miseries of 
that hour cannot well be described. 

"When daylight appeared we held a council, and concluded 
that inasmuch as one gun and some ammunition was saved. Perry 
would furnish us with meat, and we would proceed up the river 
by slow marches to the nearest settlements, supposed to be one 
hundred miles. A small quantity of provisions which was found 
scattered around the fire, was picked up and distributed among us, 
and a piece of blanket which was saved from the fire, was given 
to me to cover a wound in my back. On examination, it was 
found that two balls had passed through my right arm, and that 
the bone was broken; to dress this, splinters were taken from a 
tree near the fire, that had been shivered by lightning, and placed 
on the outside of my hunting-shirt, and bound with a string. 
And now being in readiness to move. Perry took the gun and 
ammunition, and we all got to our feet except Wernock, who, on 
attempting to get up, fell back to the ground. He refused to try 
again, said that he could not live, and at the same time desired 
us to do the best we could for ourselves. Perry then took hold 



AFFEXBIX. 73 



of his arm, and told him that if he would get up he would carry 
him; upon this he made another effort to get up, but falling back 
as before, he begged us in the most solemn manner to leave him. 
At his request, the old kettle was filled with water and placed at 
his side, which he said was the last and only favor he required of 
us, and then conjured us to leave him and try to save ourselves, 
assuring us that should he live to see us again, he would cast no 
reflections of unkindness upon us. Thus we left him. When 
we had got a little distance I looked back, and distressed and 
hopeless as Wernock's condition really was, I felt to envy it. 
After going about one hundred poles, we were obliged to stop 
and rest, and found ourselves too sick and weak to proceed. 
Another consultation being held, it was agreed that Templeton 
and myself should remain there with Edward Mitchell, and Perry 
should take the gun and go to the nearest settlement and seek 
relief. Perry promised that if he could not procure assistance, 
he would be back in four days; he then returned to the camp and 
found Wernock in the same state of mind as when we left, per- 
fectly rational and sensible of his condition; replenished his kettle 
with water, brought us some fire, and started for the settlement. 
Alike unable to go back or forward, and being very thirsty we 
set about getting water from a small stream that happened to be 
near us, our only drinking vessel an old wool hat, which was so 
broken that it was with great difficulty made to hold water; but 
by stuffing leaves in it, we made it hold so that each one could 
drink from once filling it. Nothing could have been a greater lux- 
ury to us than a drink of water from the old hat. Just at night, 
Mitchell returned to see if Wernock was still living, intending if 
he was dead, to get the kettle for us; he arrived just in time to 
see him expire, but not choosing to leave him until he should be 
certain he was dead, he staid with him until darkness came on, 

lO 



74 APPEXDIX. 



and when he attempted to return to us, he got lost, and lay from 
us all night. We suffered much that night from want of fire, and 
through fear that he was either killed, or that he had run off; but 
happily for us our fears were groundless, for next morning at 
sunrise he found his way to our camp. That day we moved about 
two hundred yards further up a deep ravine, and further from the 
river. The weather, which had been cold and frosty, now became 
a little warmer and commenced raining. Those that were with 
me could set up, but I had no alternative but to lie on my back 
on the ground, with my right arm over my body. The rain con- 
tinued next day. Mitchell took an excursion to examine the 
hills, and not far distant, he found a rock projecting from the 
cliff sufficiently to shelter us from the rain, to which place we 
very gladly removed; he also gathered pawpaws for us, which 
were our only food, except perhaps a few grapes. 

"Time moved slowly on until Saturday. In the meantime, 
we talked over the dangers to which Perry was exposed, the dis- 
tance he had to go, and the improbability of his returning. When 
the time had expired which he had allowed himself, we concluded 
that we v/ould, if alive, wait for him until Monday, and if he did 
not come then, and no relief should be afforded, we would at- 
tempt to travel to Point Pleasant. The third day after our de- 
feat my arm became very painful; the splinters and sleeves of my 
shirt were cemented together with blood, and stuck so fast to my 
arm that it required the application of warm water for nearly a 
whole day to loosen them so that they could be taken off; when 
this was done 1 had my arm dressed with white oak leaves, which 
had a very good effect. On Saturday, about 12 o'clock, Mitchell 
came with his bosom full of pawpaws, and placed them conve- 
nient to us, and returned to his station on the river. He had 
been gone about an hour, when to our great joy we beheld him 



APPENDIX. 75 



coming with a company of men. When they approached us, we 
found that our trusty friend and companion, David Perry, had 
returned to our assistance with Captain John Walls, his officers 
and most of his company. Our feelings of gratitude may pos- 
sibly be conceived, but words can never describe them. Suffice 
it to say that these eyes flowed down plenteously with tears, and 
I was so completely overwhelmed with joy that I fell to the 
ground. On my recovery, we were taken to the river and re- 
freshed plentifully with provisions which the captain had brought, 
and had our wounds dressed by an experienced man, who came 
for that purpose. We were afterward described by the captain to 
be in a most forlorn and pitiable condition, more like corpses be- 
ginning to putrify, than living beings. 

"While we were at the cliff which sheltered us from the rain, 
the howling of the wolves in the direction of the fatal spot whence 
we had so narrowly escaped with our lives, left no doubt that thev 
were feasting on the bodies of our much lamented friends, M'Nutt 
and Wernock. While we were refreshing ourselves at the river, 
and having our wounds dressed. Captain Walls went with some 
of his men to the place of our defeat and collected the bones of 
our late companions, and buried them with the utmost expedi- 
tion and care. We were then conducted by water to Captain 
Walls' station, at Grave Creek." 

Colonel Patterson was the original proprietor of Lexington, 
Kentucky, and owner of one-third of the original town plot of 
Cincinnati. He was a celebrated Indian finhter: was with Gene- 
ral Geo. Rogers Clark in his Illinois expedition of 1778; in Bow- 
man's expedition against Old Chillicothe, in 1779; under Clark 
again in his memorable Mad River campaign of 1780; second to 
Colonel Boone at the battle of the Lower Blue Licks in 1782; a 
colonel under Clark in his Miami expedition of 1783; and in the 



76 JPPEJVDIX. 



Shawnee expedition of Colonel Logan in 1786. He removed to 
the vicinity of Dayton in 1804, where he died, August 5, 1827. 



From "Red Men of the Ohio Valley,"' />. 175 to 183. 






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